Business As Usual
by Hawkeye4077
Summary: While investigating the attack on two marines, McGee is attacked by a suspect and Gibbs is taken hostage. Why? Can the rest of the team find Gibbs in time? Start of S3 after Kill Ari 2 - no Kate. Violence, swearing, Gibbs whump! R&R please.
1. Gear Up!

**A/N: So it's taken me a while to write this one out - my first NCIS fic YAYS :D**

**Critical reviews/comments are welcome but no flames please.  
**

"Tony, if you've superglued my keyboard again, I'll wipe your computer of all those _lovely_ emails and pictures I know you keep on it!" Tim McGee cried as he sat down behind his desk. Tony DiNozzo had just returned from a week-long holiday with no Probie to tease and no Ziva to annoy, and despite it being only 0700 on a Monday morning he was just itching to pull one of his many juvenile pranks. "Now why would I do that, McGag?" Tony replied innocently.

"Do what, DiNozzo?" Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs asked as he walked swiftly past Tony, slapping the back of his head. He reached his desk, collected his weapon and badge from the drawer and threw the keys for the NCIS crime scene van over to Ziva, "Gear up! Armed robbery at Quantico, got a dead marine PFC, one other critical. DiNozzo call Ducky."

"On it boss!" Tony picked up his phone and dialled autopsy, explaining the situation briefly as soon as Dr. Mallard answered, then trailed behind Gibbs to the lift.

Twenty minutes later, Gibbs was regretting allowing Ziva to drive – not because it had a negative effect on him directly, but because DiNozzo always complained about her style of driving – "Tony in Israel, many have become adults around it – some day it may save their life."

"It's 'brought up' by the way, and, it may save their life, but I tend to like having my insides _in_ my body and _not_ being crushed against my ribs at every corner!" Gibbs smothered a slight smile as he imagined DiNozzo's reaction to his own driving. "Hey boss, how come Ziva got to drive? I never get to drive!" Tony whined. After a further twenty minutes of Tony's whining, Gibbs' reaction was instantaneous – he slammed his hand against the dashboard, "DiNozzo!" Gibbs growled, his patience being sorely tested as he sat between the squabbling pair, "If I was able to extend my arm enough to headslap you I would but since I can't – open the hatch and SHUT UP!" DiNozzo obliged and Gibbs turned in his seat to shout through the small hatch to McGee, who had lost out again and had been forced by Tony to 'sit' in the back, "McGee!"

"Yeah boss?" McGee called back as he staggered from his make-shift seat to the front of the vehicle.

"You're sitting in the front on the way back!"

"Really?" Gibbs nodded, "Thanks boss!" McGee smiled at the thought of a comfortable seat and not being thrown around in the back of the van.

Arriving at their crime scene – a fast food restaurant, Gibbs introduced his team to the base commander, "Colonel Warren... Special Agents DiNozzo and McGee, Officer David." Warren nodded to each of them in turn as Gibbs introduced them, "I only wish I were meeting your team under better circumstances, Agent Gibbs." He was interrupted by his mobile phone, "Yes?...I'll be there in five...Thank you Captain." Warren turned back to Gibbs, "I'm sorry but something has come up, I'll send my senior liaison officer to NCIS headquarters as soon as I've finished up."

"Thanks, Colonel. McGee, DiNozzo take photos and bag up the evidence then get it back to Abby. David, get witness statements."

There was a chorus of 'Yes, Boss!' from his team before they dashed off to fulfil their tasks; Tony already planning new tricks to play on the younger agent. Gibbs followed his agents into the restaurant and headed straight to Dr. Donald Mallard and their dead marine. "What do we got, Duck?"

"Well Jethro, it would appear that this poor boy died from a gunshot to the heart...Quite the execution."

"Time of death?"

"My dear Jethro, you really must learn to be patient, Mr. Palmer failed to show up this morning. Again. Liver temperature indicates he died approximately two hours ago, and before you ask, you will have to wait until I do a full autopsy to find out more." Gibbs smiled wryly.

"Thanks Duck...McGee! With me," he whirled round to DiNozzo and David, "You two finish up here, then get back to the office and--"

"Check out disgruntled employees, yes boss!"

* * *

"What are we doing here, boss?" McGee asked as they walked through the whitewashed halls of Bethesda Naval Hospital. "Victim's statement." Gibbs said without turning to him.

"Erm boss...the victim is in a critical condition – what exactly is he going to talk to us about?" Gibbs stopped at the nurses' station and, after showing the woman behind the desk his badge and asking to see PFC Starr, turned to Tim, "The killer!"

"I'll show you, his bandages are due for a change now anyway," the nurse offered. Gibbs nodded his thanks and they followed the woman further down the hall towards a private room. Fifty metres in front of Gibbs and McGee, a man walked out of a room. His deep-set eyes flitted from face to face before resting on Gibbs'. There was a flash of recognition before he schooled his face into a neutral expression and he walked quickly in the opposite direction to the NCIS agent. "That man came out of PFC Starr's—" The nurse informed the pair following her but was cut off as they became aware of an incessant beep coming from the room – the marine's heart monitor. As the nurse rushed into the room, Gibbs and McGee ran after the man they had just seen.

They split up as the younger agent sprinted through the door to the stairs and Gibbs continued down the long corridor. However he hadn't gone more than twenty metres when he heard a cry from the stairwell and rushed back to find out what was wrong. Flinging the heavy wooden door open, the first thing Gibbs noticed was a crumpled, bloodied heap at the halfway down the set of stairs.

**A/N: So what do you think? Good? Bad? In the middle? xD**

**Whatever. Just tell me what you think.  
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	2. Suspect

**A/N: :D thanks for the reviews for the first chapter - it's encouraging that like this story so here's the next chapter.**

_Previously_

_Flinging the heavy wooden door open, the first thing Gibbs noticed was a crumpled, bloodied heap at the halfway down the set of stairs._

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Tony walked up quietly behind his fellow agent who was staring blankly at the plasma screen in front of her. "What do you see, Zee-vah?" She wheeled round to face him. "You've been staring at the plasma for hours!"

"I have not!" She protested, much to DiNozzo's delight, "It's only been ten minutes."

"You haven't found anything though," He said, flicking Ziva's ear. She grabbed his hand and quickly twisted the offending arm behind his back, pushing it up until just before she would cause more long-lasting injury than a bruised ego. "Ow! Ziva! That hurts. Please, let go, you'll rip my suit!" Tony whined. "I don't care what Gibbs says, next time you annoy me I'll..." Ziva's growled threat was interrupted by the phone on her desk ringing. She picked it up and listened to the female voice on the other end.

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_Tim!_

Gibbs would have jumped down the stairs if it were not for Tim's still form occupying his landing space. As it was, he flew down them, taking two steps at a time. He checked for McGee's pulse then, finding it strong if not a little fast, gently rolled him over and was pleased when the young man groaned and opened his eyes. Blood streamed down his face from a cut above his eye and from his nose but he was conscious and lucid, immediately looking around and assessing the situation. "McGee, you alright?"

"I think my legs broken: the guy hit me with a fire extinguisher as I came through the door and I fell down the stairs."

"You think you can give Abby a description, get a face for this guy?"

"I can do one better boss." McGee grabbed the knife that was lying next to him, "Rule nine, boss, I managed to catch him as he walked past me on his way down...Shouldn't you be trying to catch up with him?"

"On it boss!" Gibbs replied, grinning – having decided to cut the Probie some slack, "You did good McGee, but I'll catch the guy _after _you get that leg checked out."

Gibbs put McGee's arm around his shoulders and stood up, pulling McGee with him. He walked him up the stairs quickly, opened the door and sat McGee on the nearest empty bench. "Get DiNozzo and Ziva down here to process those stairs." He turned to leave, "But get yourself checked out first."

"Go boss!" McGee said, lifting his injured leg gingerly onto the hard plastic bench, waiting for an unsuspecting nurse to come along.

Deciding his young agent would be able to cope all on his own, Gibbs sprinted back down the stairs.

_If this guy knows what's good for him, he'll be long gone._

He reached the bottom floor and noticed a bloody handprint smeared on the emergency exit and the adjacent wall. As he cautiously pushed the heavy door open he rested his hand on his gun holster. Once outside, Gibbs looked around and noticed an unmarked white van parked twenty metres from the exit, a man, possibly the same man they had chased after before, was sitting in the driver's seat.

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Tony's phone rang, startling him as he slouched back in his chair. "DiNozzo," The voice that answered made him sit up quickly. "R_un a check on a white van, licence plate 088-NDI_."

"On it boss! What did you find a—" Tony said before realising his boss had already hung up. He finished typing in the number and watched as the sole result came up on the screen. Tony clicked on the result and skimmed through the owner's details.

_A real scumbag this one, boss._

Picking up his phone, he dialled Gibbs.

"_Gibbs._"

"Boss, that white van – it belongs to an Allen E. Smith, 48 years old and he has a serious record: six serious assaults, a couple of armed robberies and a DUI – he's been in and out of jail since he turned sixteen."

"_Has McGee checked in yet?_"

"No boss...Why?" Again there was silence on Gibbs' end as he hung up. DiNozzo stood paralysed behind his desk as he processed the implications of why McGee would need to "check in". Coming to a decision, he picked up his phone again and dialled McGee. He did not answer and Tony stopped retrying after the next three no-answers.

He decided to try a different tack and searched for the hospital's phone number before dialling it.

_You'd think I'd know this number off by heart: the number of times one of our team's been in there for our various injuries._

"_Bethesda Naval Hospital, Nurse Taylor speaking, how can I help you_?"

"This is Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, NCIS. A couple of our agents – Gibbs and McGee – went down there to interview one of your patients...a PFC Starr; I was calling to ask if they were still there?"

"_Uh...Hold on one moment please._" Tony could hear the sound of typing in the background, "_They haven't signed out of the hospital_," there was a soft ping in the background. "_Did you say Agent McGee, first name Timothy?"_

"Yeah, why? Has he gotten carried away with your computers?" Tony asked jokingly, causing the nurse to chuckle, "_No, no... He was involved in an incident with a suspect in your case and suffered a broken leg. He's just in the casting room at the moment and then we are going to discharge him._"

"Don't discharge him until I arrive: I'll give him a ride home..." DiNozzo remembered that McGee was not the only one to visit the hospital "What about Special Agent Gibbs?"

"_Ah...No he's still here, at least as far as our records show. I'm sorry: maybe you should try phoning him." _The nurse added helpfully.

"Thanks." DiNozzo hung up, eager to rush down to the hospital and gloat over Tim's misfortune.

He stood up and reached for his pistol in the drawer then looked up at his partner. "Ziva, I'm going to Bethesda Naval Hospital. Get down to Abby's lab and help her with trace. If Ducky finds anything...'hinky' call me." Tony ordered on his way to the elevator, his bag slung over his shoulder.

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**A/N: so there you go - another chapter down. :D**

**Again reviews/comments are _always_ welcome (but not flames please). Be kind. Be critical. :)  
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	3. Missing

**A/N: So after all the nice reviews I've had for this story, here's the next chapter.**

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Wary that he was completely exposed as he crossed the empty car park, Gibbs pulled his weapon from its holster and watched the man in the front carefully for any sign of hostility. Reaching the side window, Gibbs realised the man was completely still except for the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. Gibbs slid a hand over the door handle and was about to yank the door open when the man suddenly pulled a gun, coupled with a silencer, up to the glass. He fired a single, quiet shot through the window, shattering the glass. Gibbs fell backwards, his eyes wide with shock and pain, and slammed his head against the concrete. Shards of glass showered down around and onto Gibbs, and then everything faded to black as he felt blood running down his face from the new wound on his forehead.

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Tony walked slowly through the hospital corridors towards the nurses' station, thinking up new witty remarks to mock McGee with. He reached the station and flashed his badge lazily, "Special Agent DiNozzo. I'm here to see Special Agent Timothy McGee."

"Ah yes, I spoke to you on the phone, follow me." She turned away and started to lead Tony down the hall towards the waiting room.

She pushed open the door and allowed DiNozzo to step through into the small, lime green room, inhabited by a sole occupant. "Hey McGee! How're you doing?" He asked, a childish grin slowly spreading across his face, "I heard you lost against a fire extinguisher."

"I did not!" McGee cried huffily, "He surprised me." He added quietly."The Elflord was _surprised_!"

"Shut up, Tony!" McGee's exclamation only served to amuse Tony further, and he fell about laughing. Eventually, McGee's glare began to unsettle the chortling man. "Fine, where's Gibbs?"

"I haven't seen him since we split up." DiNozzo was immediately concerned.

"When was that McGee?"

"Gibbs helped me up the stairs and then went back to find the guy. That's all I know Tony, I'm sorry." McGee replied, poking a straw under the annoying cast that engulfed his entire right leg.

"Right, I'll help you to the car then I'll go looking for Gibbs."

_Even though he won't need me – he'll probably tell me off for leaving the office without anything to tell him.  
_

McGee settled himself in the back of Tony's car, his casted leg spread across the backseats, as Tony pulled out his phone and dialled Gibbs. It rang for twenty seconds before voicemail kicked in:

"_Gibbs, leave a message. *beep*"_

"Wow...he really hates technology...oops." Tony grimaced as he realised he had recorded his revelation, "Erm boss, it's DiNozzo. I'm at the hospital: I just picked up McGee, now I'm coming to find you. I know you're probably just busy b—" He was cut off by a second beep: he had reached the end of his allotted time for messages. He leaned down and spoke to McGee through the open door, "I'll be back in twenty, if I'm not, get Abby to set up trace on our cells."

"Ok Tony...Can I have your keys? Not like I'm going anywhere, but..." McGee said with a shrug. As Tony walked away he turned back, threw the keys to him and then set off jogging through the car park back towards the hospital entrance.

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Gibbs was vaguely aware that he was lying on his side on a very hard, uncomfortable and cold surface, his head resting in a sticky puddle of some sort of metallic-smelling liquid.

_Blood...I think...What the hell happened?_

Gibbs tried to roll over but found there was not only another solid, cold slab of concrete behind him but also his hands were tied. He opened his eyes slowly and tried to think, but the pounding headache was not helping with his assessing his situation – each time he tried to move his head, pain splintered through it like lightening. All he could tell from his position on the floor was that he was in a dark room with a single door. There was a halo of light around the door but not enough filtered through to allow Gibbs to see anything within the room. With a sigh, he shifted a little to try to move his arm from underneath him. However both his arms were bound tightly behind his back and, after testing the strength of whatever it was that was binding them, gave up: it was a pair of hand-cuffs, presumably his own. Deciding he had had enough of lying in a pool of his own blood, the marine awkwardly pushed himself up – ignoring the sudden waves of nausea and intense pain – so that he was sitting against the wall. His hearing seemed to be a little off, probably due to the head wound.

Suddenly a hatch in the door opened and light streamed into Gibbs' cell. Having heard no footsteps or voices or even the sound of a latch being uncaught, Gibbs was unprepared for the harsh brightness of the light that abruptly illuminated the room, and it sent excruciating spikes of pain into his brain through his open eyes. He moaned loudly and gritted his teeth, hoping not to succumb to the numbing bliss of unconsciousness, but as his captor shone a bright halogen torch through the hatch the pain erupted fiercely and he stopped fighting and allowed numb blackness to take over.

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**A/N: As usual, reviews are welcome even if they're critical.**


	4. Memories

In the ten minutes after Tony had left McGee in his car he had managed to piece together the basics of his encounter with their new suspect. He had asked the nurse that he had spoken to before to direct him towards the stairwell McGee had been attacked in, found several splatters of blood – some from each party – and a small trail that lead down the stairs. Walking carefully down the concrete steps, wary of getting blood on his shiny new shoes and of destroying evidence, Tony followed the spots of blood on the floor and also the more obvious bloody handprints that decorated the walls and handrails sporadically. He reached the end of the trail – a bloody handprint smeared on the inside of the emergency exit – and cautiously pushed the door open.

The old but rarely used door squeaked as it swung out of Tony's path giving him a clear view of the hospital's near-empty overflow car park. The NCIS agent propped open the door and then walked out into the open space. He noticed a small pile of broken glass reflecting in the bright sunlight next to what looked like a sheet of smooth, polished metal and walked towards it. The closer Tony got, the more the sheet of metal looked ominously like a liquid, a black liquid. He knelt down to inspect it further and realised it wasn't a black fluid but one that was deep red and that smelt metallic.

_I hope this isn't Gibbs' or Abby's going to freak._

Flipping open his phone, Tony called for a forensic team.

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"GET UP!" Gibbs was rudely awoken by a sharp kick in the ribs and a bellow in his buzzing ears. He groaned as he opened his eyes to find his aggressor's feet only a few inches from his face – they were so close he could see the dirt encrusted on the toe and the minute tears in the leather. He tried to sit up but his arms were still tied behind his back and received another swift kick to his chest as he lay back. "GET! UP!" His captor repeated, leaning closer to Gibbs' ear, "Or maybe I'll take another one of your team. Miss Scuito perhaps or maybe Anthony DiNozzo: you treat him like a son I believe." There was a sharp intake of breath from Gibbs, "You bastard!" Immediately the man launched punch after punch, kick after kick against Gibbs' body. All Gibbs could do was curl himself into a tight ball, grit his teeth – resolving not to call out, not to show weakness, not to show the pain he felt – and wait until the man ran out of energy, or interest...or he lost consciousness. The man lost interest first and stood up, delivering one final vicious kick to Gibbs' battered form. Taking in his hostage's face, fresh blood oozing from the gunshot wound at his hairline and from several new cuts, the man whispered to the barely conscious marine, "You can't protect them all the time Agent Gibbs and when you're not there bad things can happen," and walked to the door. "Oh and be a good NCIS agent and stay here while I go out and get something to eat – all this exercise has made me hungry. Don't bother trying to attract attention – the walls are solid concrete." With that he turned and stalked from the room, slamming the door behind him, the force of which made the hatch fall open and light suddenly illuminated the small cell and its occupant.

As Gibbs lay on the ground in agony, once again lying in a pool of his own blood, he thought of the happier times in his life: being married to Shannon, riding horses along a windswept beach with Kelly and Shannon, Paris with Jenny. Gradually the pain receded and the slight movement of his arms no longer sent excruciating pain through his ribs. He tested the bonds around his wrists and found them surprisingly loose. Slowly Gibbs managed to slacken them enough to free his hand and he let out a pained grunt as the effort of moving his arms from behind him took its toll. He pushed himself up and leant back against the wall. For the first time Gibbs took stock of his surroundings, taking in the open hatch in the door and the lack of any other sources of light and, more importantly, the single exit.

_Well done, Jethro, what've you got yourself into now?_

He started to raise his right arm, intending to slap the back of his head, but his ribs protested painfully and he lowered it again. Gibbs swore under his breath then turned his attention back to studying his four-by-ten-feet cell. He painfully thumped his head back against the wall.

_Yeah that's definitely solid concrete going by that thump._

Shakily he pushed himself to his feet, swaying alarmingly until he steadied himself against the wall. He pressed one hand to his forehead and the other to the wall as he slowly walked round the boundaries of his prison. Reaching the door, he stuck one hand through the hatch and scrabbled for the lock or handle on the outside but could not find it.

_Damn it! God damn son of a bitch headache!_

He fumbled his way round the rest of the room until he tripped over something and was sent sprawling onto the hard floor, expelling a rush of air and his head hitting a wall. Cradling his head, he lay on the floor moaning and gasping for breath. Despite all the logical things to do, Gibbs could not stop himself from shouting out in anger, "DAMN IT!" He lay there breathing heavily, his chest on fire.

_Where the hell are DiNozzo and David? They must've heard from McGee by now, or else the hospital. If that boy's gone out to meet a girl, I swear I'll make a new rule about dating while working for me...Ah I hate headaches._

He pushed himself up again – despite the black spots that danced in his vision – and leant bodily against the wall. He spared one last thought for his absent team and then blacked out.

**A/N: So chapter 4 is up now but I won't be able to post anymore until Sunday because I'm going away over the weekend but as soon as I get back I'll post the next one. I promise.**


	5. Revelations

Director Shepard stormed across the Bethesda Naval Hospital car park in the direction of the most senior NCIS agent there. "What's going on Agent DiNozzo? You said something about Gibbs and McGee being injured," Shepard asked Tony as he excused himself from a pair of conversing Bethesda guards. "Where _is_ McGee?"

"One of the nurses, who was just finishing her shift, offered to drive him back to the Navy Yard. He didn't have a laptop with him so he wasn't any use to me here anyway."

"What about Agent Gibbs, Special Agent DiNozzo? You told Ziva Gibbs had been injured. Where is he?"

"Right now I don't know, Madame Director. I believe he was shot but the evidence is purely circumstantial," he led her to the taped off crime scene, "I was investigating the assault on Agent McGee and a blood trail led me out here. I found a pool of blood and some broken glass but no sign of Gibbs. McGee hadn't heard from him when I picked him up an hour ago, and he isn't answering his cell." He walked away from the woman and pointed out a partially crumpled bullet on the ground, "_This_ is why I think he was shot. I spoke to security – they're just going to collect the tapes from the two cameras that canvas this area."

"Anything else, Tony?" His boss asked.

"The boss – Gibbs called me before he disappeared, asked me to run a licence plate. It belonged to...Allen Smith, real dirtbag: serious assaults, armed robberies, DUI."

"I don't know why but he sounds familiar."

_It must've been before DiNozzo's time, perhaps when Gibbs was my partner..._

"Oh dear,"

"What is it, director?" Tony inquired.

"We worked a case eight years ago—"

"When you say _we_ you mean you and Gibbs?" Tony butted in, a small grin flashing across his face, only to be glared at by his boss's boss. "We arrested a man, Thomas Smith, for the murder of a Petty Officer and his wife. Initially we thought his older brother did it. His brother was Allen Smith. Thomas Smith is serving two life sentences, but his brother insisted he was innocent but there was no evidence to the contrary."

"So this could be a revenge thing? What I don't understand is why he waited eight years to go after Gibbs instead of doing something immediately." Tony said, thinking of all the possible reasons that could make a man snap suddenly, eight years after the event. "You're the investigator aren't you – find out." Shepard replied tersely before rushing back to her car and leaving. Watching her leave, Tony pulled out his phone once again.

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"...and _that_ is why Major Mass Spec. over there is a brilliant piece of diagnostic equipment." Abby concluded, turning to her colleague who was standing in the lab next to her desk that was covered in evidence bags and boxes. Ziva used a hand to stifle a short yawn. "Wow, Abby, that's...fascinating but you really don't need to explain your techniques to me – we had mass spectroscopy in Israel too. I just didn't use it." Abby turned to the Mossad officer and waved her hands energetically as she spoke, making her various chains jingle. "I bet you didn't have one of those in Israel." She said, pointing to another of her expensive pieces of equipment. "No we had other expensive...doohickies...like an inductively coupled plasma optical emission spectrometer." Their conversation was cut short as her cell rang loudly and she turned away. "Ziva David."

"_Hey Zee-vah. It's Tony._"

"What's going on at the hospital?"

"_Well McGee's got a broken leg and Gibbs is missing._" Tony paused and Ziva heard him sigh heavily. "_Look I've got to go. Don't panic Abby too much. Also I need an extra pair of hands down here – can you get down here as soon as possible._" Ziva shut her phone and glanced at the young forensic scientist in front of her who was back typing away at her computer. "Abby..."

"What?" She retorted brusquely.

"Abby, Tony just called. McGee's been injured." The moment the meaning of the words registered with Abby she wheeled around and began interrogating the Israeli. "What happened? Is he alright? Where was Gibbs? Why didn't Gibbs call me? What's—" Ziva raised a hand to stop the flow of questions tumbling from Abby's mouth. "McGee's got a broken leg and Gibbs is also missing, which is why he did not notify you himself. I don't know anything more than that." Abby looked shell-shocked. "Gibbs? Missing? No no no no, that can't happen. Gibbs doesn't just go 'missing'. It's against one of his rules: never be unreachable." As Abby continued to babble, she paced around the room, gesticulating wildly and tears running freely down her cheeks. She stopped, a foot from Ziva, and tried to hug her, only for Ziva to duck away. "Abby, Tony needs me down at Bethesda. If you need anything, go and talk to Dr. Mallard." Before Abby could protest, Ziva had rushed out of the room, not yet ready to accept the American's liberal hugging policy.

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As McGee's 'taxi' pulled up to the Navy Yard's security gate he pulled out his NCIS badge and waved it at the waiting guard. "Agent McGee you get taken down by a suspect, or did Gibbs punish you for a mistake?" The guard turned to the other one who was standing a few feet away, laughing. McGee ignored their jokes, too preoccupied with the current situation to care. They drove on through the gate and came to a stop outside NCIS headquarters, "Here you go Special Agent McGee." The nurse said, getting out of the car to help McGee, "Thanks ma'am." He turned around to face the building entrance and hobbled towards it, swaying unsteadily on his crutches. "I hope you find your boss, Agent McGee." the nurse called after him.

_So do I, so do I._

He shuffled slowly into Abby's lab, a blood sample clutched in one hand and the boxed, blood-spattered knife in the other, along with his crutches, and was surprised to find her at her desk with her head lying on Bert the Hippo. He was more surprised by the lack of any music – whether sad and depressing or upbeat and enjoyable. "Abby...?" He whispered, not really wanting to wake the sleeping woman and pull her back to the depressing possiblities the team was facing. He looked around and noticed that music was not the only thing lacking her laboratory, suddenly realising _why_ she was so still and silent. He turned around and trundled back out of the room and up in the elevator. Timothy McGee was shell-shocked – Abby Scuito _never_ went without caffeine _and_ music. It was completely unheard of.

Five minutes later, he returned, Caf-pow in hand, and re-entered the lab, "Abby...? I brought caffeine." Instantly Abby jumped from her chair sending it scuttling away from the desk and making Bert emit a short fart. She swung her arms around him as he set down the drink on her desk, almost knocking him off balance. "McGee I could love you...but then Gibbs would kill you for breaking rule—" She stopped mid flow, "Oh no, Gibbs. Tell me he's going to be alright McGee." He looked at her sadly, "_Tell_ me...please." McGee raised the blood sample to her eyelevel, "Find out who's this is and _then _I can tell you whether he's ok or not...Why would Gibbs only kill _me_ for breaking the rule?" Abby narrowed her eyes to slits, "You're mean Timothy McGee, and Gibbs would _never_ hit a girl."

"Yeah but it'll keep you occupied, keep your mind off it. Remember, it might not be his, ok?"

"I guess."

"I have to go run a name for Tony, but I'll be back down as soon as I can Abbs, I swear." Tim turned to walk out of the door but was stopped by Abby's voice, "I ran a trace on Gibbs' cell but I couldn't get a fix so it's probably switched off. Just to be safe I'm tracing _all_ of your cells too, even the director's."

"That's a good idea Abby." He turned back to the door and began to limp his way to the elevator again.

_I can't be bothered going all that way to do something I could easily do here only to have to come back here twenty minutes later._

"Actually Abby is it alright if I use that computer?" He asked the young goth, waving in the direction of the other room. Abby turned to him smiling weakly, "Of course McGee – you don't have to ask...unless I'm using it but then—"

"Then you'll bite my head off."

"No I won't!" She cried indignantly, "I'll tell Gibbs to hit you." McGee ignored her threat and went into the other room, settling himself in front of the screen.

_Let's see what we've got on this Allen E. Smith then._

**A/N: Yes there really is such a thing as an** **inductively coupled plasma optical emission spectrometer but I have no idea how it works or even what it is. xD**


	6. Confessions

**A/N: Last time I forgot to mention all the wonderful people leaving helpful and kind reviews for this story...so this is a belated thanks. As a reward here's the next chapter for Business As Usual. Hope you like - I can trust you to tell me if you don't, or even if you do.**

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Gibbs had managed to drag himself into the corner behind the door and curled into a loose ball, figuring that if the door did not wake him then he would at least have minimal protection from his captor until he did wake up. The moment came to test his theory sooner than he expected as he heard footsteps approaching the door and creaked into an uncomfortable crouching position. However as the door swung open Gibbs found he had underestimated the extent of his injuries - he had struggled to stand up straight, let alone try overpower the man and escape. The man peered around the door to sneer at him as he lay on the floor, shaking from the effort, "What're you going to do Leroy? Attack me and escape?" He let out a short grating laugh as he saw his prisoner's face fall – as though realising his predicament for the first time, "Somehow I thought not. Anyway I thought you might like something to eat...but obviously not so I'll just leave you to come up with your next pathetic escape plan." Gibbs' stomach rumbled at the thought of food – for the first time he wished he had had something to eat before rushing out of his house to go to their crime scene – but he refused to admit to this man, whose face was vaguely familiar but he couldn't quite place it, that he needed anything.

"What do you want?" Gibbs asked just as the man pulled the door closed. At first he thought he had been ignored, but the hatch opened noisily and a man peered through, "I want you Leroy, and now I have you." Gibbs was confused and slightly perturbed by the statement's implications. "Why?"

"_Why?"_ The man scoffed, "Because you and your pretty redheaded agent put my brother in jail for a crime he didn't even commit! He was given two life sentences for something he didn't do and you planted, collected and presented the evidence in a trial that was a long way from fair!" He stepped back from the hatch and the door once again swung open, "But you don't even remember who he is or even who I am, do you?" Gibbs simply glowered at the man, "Remember Petty Officer Carnell and his beautiful wife?" He barely paused to allow Gibbs to give an answer - he knew there would be none anyway, "Of course you do – you remember the victims but _never_ the 'criminals'. Isn't that the way it goes?"

_What the hell have I got myself into this time? Normally it's DiNozzo that gets into trouble with the nut jobs—_

"My younger brother was Thomas Smith – a good man who was wrongly accused of murder and then convicted by FALSIFIED evidence, evidence _you_ 'collected'."

_Crap I knew there was something familiar about this guy._

"You're his brother," Gibbs paused to take in the man's reaction, and also to give himself time to remember his name, "Allen, Allen Smith aren't you?" The man smiled showing off his gruesome black and yellow teeth, "Well done Leroy, finally you remember, but you're already too late - remembering my name won't save you now." Gibbs looked at the man quizzically, but did not get the opportunity to ask what he was supposed to save himself from as a gun barrel connected with his temple and Gibbs' body went limp. Allen Smith stood over his captive and sneered, "You stole my brother's life from me and now you're going to pay...You want to know how I _know_ he didn't kill those people? You want to know how _I_ know that evidence was planted?" He asked the still, unconscious form on the ground, "Because I killed them." He chuckled coldly and walked out of the door, locking it behind him, "I killed them...I killed them..." Smith repeated his confession – his haunting laugh echoing through the corridor – until he reached another door and suddenly there was silence in Gibbs' cell, broken only by his shallow, laboured breathing.

* * *

Abby peered into her back room, openly admiring McGee's dedication to their boss – he had been typing and squinting at the computer screen for the past two hours with a broken leg, the toes of which were starting to turn a deep purple, despite the fact that he had apparently made very little progress.

_What he needs is—_

Her computer pinged, "McGee! I got a match!" She shouted, then waited impatiently until he had limped into the main lab before bringing up the result, "You know how to make a girl wait don't you, Timmy?" She joked, only to be met by an icy glare from her colleague, "Who is it, Abby?" He watched as she moved her mouse agonizingly slowly to the 'View Results' button and clicked it. A single results page came up. They both inhaled sharply at the name of the blood's owner. Abby was the first to break their stunned and horrified silence with a quiet, concerned whisper – "Gibbs." She turned to McGee and wrapped her arms around him tightly, causing him to drop his crutches loudly and entirely unnoticed by the duo, and sobbed into his shoulder, "What're we going to do now McGee?" The young agent knew from experience that very little he said or did would comfort his friend but he would do his best, "I'm sure he's fine Abby. We'll find him – I know that – and I'll work every hour of every day until we do."

"You promise?" She asked, pulling her face back from his shoulder and letting him see the dark tear stains already running down her face. "Yes. I promise Abby." He held her at arms' reach to see whether she believed him or not, "I have to phone Tony and Ziva ok?" The forensic scientist buried her face in his suit again and mumbled something. "...Ok. Be back soon though." Gently prising Abby's fingers from his upper arms, McGee slowly bent down and grabbed his crutches, swung them under his arms and left the lab, leaving Abby to set out all possible scenarios that could have happened to her favourite NCIS agent.

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**A/N: As always reviews are always well received and, if i have time, replied to - however school is back on at the moment and demanding sooo much of my time it's hard to do much else (even though my exams have finished YAY :D)**


	7. Bending The Rules

**A/N: Another day, another chapter. Thanks to Mirajo for the review for the last chapter, although I had hoped to get more but hey-ho - I'm not going to hold this story to ransom, demanding more reviews before i post the next chapter - that's just silly. Been watching Wimbledon _and_ doing Advanced Higher maths homework _and_ writing this but I'll try and keep posting regularly.  
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**Anyway, enough of my wittering, here's the next chapter.  
**

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McGee sat at his desk, his broken leg resting on a pillow on Tony's chair, opened the background on Allen Smith and dialled Tony. "_Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo._"

"Hey Tony, it's McGee. First of all Abby ran that blood."

"_And...?_" Tony asked anxiously.

"It's Gibbs'."

"_Are you sure?_"

"She ran it three times, took a new sample and ran that too. It's definitely his." Tony sighed on the other end and scrubbed his face with his hand.

"_Damn it!...Anything else?_"

"Yeah. That Allen Smith you asked me to research, turns out he's related to a—" McGee did not finish his sentence as Tony cut in.

"_He's the brother of Thomas Smith, convicted murderer serving two life sentences. I know McGee, Gibbs and the director put him away eight years ago. What else have you got?_" Tim scanned down through the information in front of him, "Well Thomas Smith died last year and two months later Allen filed for his criminal record to be wiped but the court refused. He's been campaigning for his brother's innocence ever since, believing Gibbs falsified evidence to get a conviction."

"_That doesn't sound like something Gibbs would do...does it? What about a place of residence?_"

"He lives in a trailer park twenty miles from where you are now. I'll send the directions to your PDA." McGee said, having already sent them five minutes ago.

"_What about his cell?_"

"Nope, nothing. Abby thinks it's switched off but we'll keep trying."

"_Right. I'll take Ziva with me to this trailer park and find this dirtbag and then bring him..._" Tony drifted off as he was distracted by a guard waving to him, "_I'll bring him in for questioning. Run his bank accounts and phone records to build up a picture of where he's been recently. I want you to find out everything you can about this bastard._" He hung up before McGee could reply.

DiNozzo walked over to the waiting guard, "What've you got?"

"Tapes from the cameras as you asked, sir, and a list of everyone who drove into the hospital car park today – everyone has to sign in: a new regulation the commander brought in to tighten security...and make your job a hell of a lot easier I guess." He finished with a smile and handed Tony three tapes, each one dated and with a timeslot written on the label, "I made copies so don't worry about returning them - I just hope you find your guy."

"Thanks." The man turned sharply

Tony slid his phone into his jacket pocket and walked over to the Israeli who was standing at the exit junction from the car park, "Found anything?" he asked as he stood next to her surveying the busy road ahead of them. "Nothing except this receipt near our crime scene." She replied, handing the small slip of paper, which was enclosed in a clear evidence bag, to Tony. At the bottom was the customer's signature – Allen Smith. Tony scanned the list of items their suspect had bought, "High-grade rope, four rolls of duck tape, two metres of chain and an industrial-grade padlock, a twent-four pack of beer and two boxes of aspirin. That's an odd selection for someone who lives alone in a trailer." He scanned further down, came to the price and coughed, "And a lot of money for someone who's been unemployed for six months." He turned to face his teammate, "Let's go – McGee got us an address – unless you've found anything else." Ziva shook her head and started towards their car.

* * *

Tony was extremely proud of his high-speed driving, and even Ziva was surprised by the short length of time it took them to travel twenty miles.

_He's almost as good as Gibbs, although a lot smoother...Better not tell either of them that – for my own sake._

Reaching their destination, the pair climbed out of the vehicle and quietly shut their doors. Tony pulled his weapon from its holster and Ziva followed suit as they walked inaudibly to the trailer door, all the time inspecting the windows for signs of movement inside. They had no warrant so could not just open the door and enter – they needed Smith's permission, but Tony doubted they would ever get it. He rapped swiftly on the door and stepped back as it swung open. He turned to Ziva, grinning broadly, "Well, I guess we'll have to go in and lock it for him."

"We _are_ supposed to protect people from crime." She added, her shrewd grin rivalling Tony's.

"And who knows what could happen if this door was left unlocked." Tony declared loudly so that all the other residents could hear and stepped inside. Ziva followed him in, watching the small crowd that had gathered around the trailer for anyone who appeared to be phoning the police or even Smith. "Come and have a look at this Zee-vah." Tony cried triumphantly from the kitchen, "Bank records show he's behind on the payments for his van." Ziva flicked through the sheets of paper Tony had found scattered messily over the small wooden table. She was about to comment on their suspect's obvious lack of cleanliness - a week's worth of dishes stacked in the sink, the worktops brown with grease - when Tony's phone rang. "DiNozzo...Right we'll come in just now – we've got some stuff for you to pore over – but this better be good McKumquat or I'll headslap you." Ziva could not help laughing at Tony's newest nickname for McGee and his entirely hollow threat. After he had hung up, Tony wheeled round to face her. "It's very distracting having someone laughing through your conversation, not to mention rude." He cried in mock anger. Ziva simply shrugged and motioned dramatically to the door, "Lead on O great one." Tony narrowed his eyes and stuck out his tongue before turning and stalking out of the trailer, leaving Ziva to lock it behind them. "Wouldn't want anyone going in there unsolicited." She explained to the slightly diminished crowd standing outside, marching back to their car. As Tony reached the car Ziva sneaked in front of him and jumped into the driver's seat, "I'm driving!" She said in a childish voice and stuck her own tongue out at him.

_Why do I always get stuck with the crazy chicks?_

Tony sighed as he slumped into the passenger seat, suddenly remembering _why_ he was stuck with the 'crazy chick'. "Shall I show you how you really drive at speed, or do you want to continue driving like your uncle?"

"Actually Ziva my uncle drives a..." He was cut off as they took the first corner with what felt like five Gs, "...Porsche."

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**A/N: What has McGee found??? Oooh I wonder what you'll have to do to find out??? :P**

**Reviews always welcome.  
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	8. Just Like You

**A/N: Lots of lovely reviews for last chapter YAY. So a huge thank you to Mirajo, louise, Moonlight83 and iGymnast for your encouragement and kind words and here is the next chapter.**

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_Why do I always wake up with a headache? I can't've had _that_ much Bourbon last night...Although I am lying on something solid and cold that feels suspiciously like my basement floor._

Gibbs forced his eyes open, despite the bright light shining into his basement, expecting to be lying underneath his half-finished boat in the layer of sawdust that coated his basement floor, and was surprised by what he saw - or rather did not see.

_This isn't my basement... Where the hell—aw crap, Smith._

As if on cue, Allen Smith thumped the door open, leered at his prisoner who was sitting on the floor, one arm wrapped tightly around his chest, and dragged him to his feet, slamming Gibbs heavily against the wall. "Do you know how long I've waited for this moment?" Gibbs was too busy trying to catch his breath and shut out the severe pain to answer Smith's hissed question and Smith thumped him back again, forcing a hoarse cry from Gibbs' lips. Smith was so close and breathing so heavily that Gibbs could smell the strong stench of cheap beer on his clothes. His attacker was still smiling disturbingly when he answered his own question, "Eight years, two months, three weeks, two days and twelve hours," He peered into Gibbs' glazed eyes to see his reaction but there was none, "...I can wait another twenty-four." He loosened his grip on Gibbs and let him drop to the floor, a coughing fit wracking his body as the fall jarred his chest. "Why are you doing this?" Gibbs managed to wheeze, his eyes almost squeezed fully shut against the pain, before descending into another alarming coughing fit. Smith glared angrily at him, "I told you!" He shouted, slapping Gibbs' head harshly. "He died in prison. He died an innocent man; an innocent man denied his freedom by a quota-filling, pencil-pushing bastard! He died surrounded by murderers and rapists, drug dealers and thieves! But worst of all, he died alone!" Each sentence was accompanied by a vicious kick to Gibbs' ribs. "You stole him from me and now I'm going to steal your life from you." Smith stared unnervingly at Gibbs as he struggled for air, "You will suffer like he suffered." Spitting blood onto Smith's white trainers, Gibbs interrupted him before Smith could give him another speech. "If your brother wasn't guilty then who was?" Smith ignored the underlying accusation in Gibbs question and continued, "They told me he died a slow painful death - so will you. Of that, I assure you." He stormed from the room, already bored with the ever-weakening NCIS special agent, and left Gibbs in the semi-darkness once more.

The marine tilted his head back slowly to rest it against the wall, sending small sparks of pain through his forehead and causing pulsating black spots to form in his vision. He had felt something warm and sticky spray his hands as he coughed violently and he knew it was blood. He was more badly injured than he originally thought. He cautiously pressed one hand to his ribs and attempted to assess the damage.

_One...no, two broken ribs and possibly a punctured lung._

He coughed painfully again, splattering more blood into his hand which he wiped on his trouser leg.

_Definitely a punctured lung. This damn headache sure ain't helping either._

Tentatively, he unbuttoned his bloody shirt and slowly extracted his arms from each sleeve in turn, grunting at each snag that pulled his battered ribs. After the first sleeve he found himself puffing hard and sweating profusely, his bruised limbs tired already, and had to rest for a while to regain his strength. When he had finished removing his shirt he was left with only a thin white t-shirt protecting him from the cold wall he was leaning against. Picking up his discarded shirt, he ripped both sleeves off and then tore the rest into as long a sheet as he could, each jerk sending further shards of pain reverberating through his chest. He used one spare sleeve to wipe away the blood that coated his face and hands, and the other to bandage a small but deep cut on his right arm. The longer sheet was used to wrap his head and cover the head wound, hopefully stopping, or at least slowing down, the steady flow of blood. When he had finished, Gibbs found he was exhausted again and rested his bandaged head against the wall, slowly falling into a painless sleep.

* * *

McGee looked up from his desk as the elevator pinged, informing those who were waiting that it had arrived, and watched in amusement as Tony staggered out, followed by an unusually chirpy Ziva David. "The next time you drive remind me to take a tranquiliser first." Tony complained, much to Ziva's glee: she seemed to be proud that her driving had had such a profound effect on the NCIS agent, "You wanted to know how we are taught evasive and high speed driving techniques in Israel – now you know." She said, her grin broadening, as she slung her bag into her chair behind her desk. Tony did the same and then marched over to McGee's desk. "Well? What've you got?"

"The director wants to know what's happening with our other case—"

"Tell her she can pass it onto a different team – mine's got more important things to be doing...Like finding Gibbs." Tony interrupted, angry that Director Shepard was even thinking of their other case.

S_he was his ex-partner for crying out loud!_

"—_But_ she knows that finding Gibbs is our top priority at the moment, she just wants you to brief her...briefly." Tim added before Tony got completely the wrong end of the stick, "Also Abby ran the blood from the knife I stabbed our suspect with—"

"Smith." It was a statement, not a question.

"Yes."

"So now we have our perp's identity for certain. What else?" Tony asked keenly.

"I plotted his purchases for the last six months to get an idea of where he goes very often and it came up with a ten square mile area. He also rents a storage garage but I'm currently on hold trying to find out where and which number." McGee explained, pressing a button to show Tony the new search area on the plasma.

"Get a warrant for it now while I go and talk to the director." Tony ordered.

"I can't get a warrant if we don't know the address, Tony." He shouted as Tony began climbing the stairs to the upper floor.

"I know that, McGee – make it up, take a wild guess." Tony yelled back.

Tony walked into the director's waiting area, expecting Cynthia to tell him to wait. She did not disappoint. "Special Agent DiNozzo, the director is busy at the moment: you'll have to wait." He ignored her and pushed open the director's door and walked straight into her office with Cynthia trailing behind him. Shepard looked up from her paperwork and was momentarily stunned that it was DiNozzo and not Gibbs who had bulldozed his way into her office, disregarding her secretary's instructions. "What can I do for you Agent DiNozzo?"

"You asked to be informed as to the progress of the fast-food restaurant shooting."

"So I did. First of all I have reassigned the case to another team – you will be heading the search for Agent Gibbs. I need you to hand over all evidence relating to the case to Agent Tom Bathgate."

"Yes ma'am, anything else?" Tony asked, eager to get back to his search for Gibbs.

"Have you any leads?"

"It's definitely Smith who's our kidnapper and was seen exiting the critical marine's room at Bethesda. He's the one Gibbs and McGee chased so I have a feeling the two cases are related. McGee has also discovered that Smith rents a storage unit at a warehouse somewhere. That's where he might be holding Gibbs." Tony reported to the woman opposite him, fidgeting with the cuff of his shirt. Realising that the man was anxious to get back to his search, Jenny dismissed him and he swiftly left the office.

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**A/N: As always reviews are well received and mostly replied to. Hope you liked this chapter.**


	9. Embarrassing

**A/N: Yay it's the weekend and I only have three subjects this year so I don't have that much homework :D AND my new hard drive has arrived :D So, all in all, it bodes well for those of you waiting for new chapters.**

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Tony walked down the stairs, sat at his desk and watched as McGee slammed down the phone, smothering a grin behind his hand. "What's got your turtleneck in a twist, Probie?"

"I just got put on hold for the fifth time by the storage company." Tony chuckled at the younger agent's pout and then took pity on him - he was stressed as it was without trying to get a warrant _and_ an address for their suspect. He turned to the Mossad Officer sitting opposite him. "Zee-vah! Take over from McGee and get the warrant to search Smith's storage unit." Tony instructed Ziva, who was sitting quietly at her desk. Tony stood up and walked over to McGee, who was typing furiously into his computer and had his casted leg raised on the desk (having returned Tony's during his discussion with the director). "Probie! Is there any way to narrow the search area?"

"No. I'm still trying to get a warrant but they want an address and I can't give the judge one until the storage company give us it."

"Okay, let's try a different tactic. What's the name of the storage company?"

"Capital Storage."

"And how many warehouses do they have in the Washington area?"

"Erm..." McGee typed furiously into his computer until it came up with the answer, "Four."

"And have you tried phoning each separate warehouse?" Tony asked, raising his eyebrows. McGee's face reddened and Tony realised his teammate hadn't thought of that. Tim picked up his phone and began dialling as Tony wandered over to his own desk and slumped back into his chair, sliding the video tape he had been carrying around out of his pocket and pushed it into the video player. He lounged back in his chair and fast forwarded to the time when Gibbs and McGee arrived at the hospital – according to the sign in sheet. He leant closer to the screen to read the licence plate on a white van that was sitting in the parking space where he had found the blood and glass, but it was too blurry. He jumped up, ejected the tape and immediately rushed to the elevator, punching the button for forensics. McGee and Ziva did not even have time to ask what he had seen.

* * *

Tony walked into Abby's lab and was just as surprised as McGee at the lack of music and he attributed it to their missing team leader. The woman in question was sitting at her desk and staring intently at the monitor in front of her, typing feverishly. He sneaked up behind her and whispered softly in her ear, making her jump. "Whatcha doing, Abbs?" She wheeled round and he instantly regretted frightening her – there were dark tearstains running down her cheeks and her eyes were red and puffy. "I was trying to trace Gibbs' cell but I think it's still turned off, but now I'm tracing his movements prior to it being switched off." Having finished her report, she sobbed. Tony stepped forwards and wrapped his arms around the scientist and she did the same, burying her face in his shirt as she began crying again. "Shh...Shh...Abby, he'll be alright." He soothed but it did not have the desired effect and she only cried harder, letting out several strangled wails. "But what if—"

"Don't even think about it. We'll get him back...In fact we don't even know he's actually missing." Abby stepped back from Tony and placed her hands on her hips. The crying had suddenly stopped but she was now hiccupping periodically, "What about the blood samples I ran? Are you saying I made a mistake?" Her face was red with anger and she was trembling.

_How could he question my forensics? After all this time working together, he should know that Gibbs is like family – I would _never ever_ make such a catastrophic mistake._

"No, no! Abby I swear, I'd never question your forensics." Tony insisted, knowing that she was only his emotional because of Gibbs. He decided to change the subject, "Can you help me identify a vehicle on this tape?"

"Of course I can. Are you questioning my computer expertise now too?" She said huffily, her eyes beginning to widen as she became upset again, forgetting her irrational anger. Tony handed her the tape and they both sat down in her swivel chairs.

Tony fast forwarded to the part he wanted to show Abby and then paused it at the clearest point, "There. That white van, can you blow it up and get the licence plate?" Abby turned to him incredulously, a slight smile stretched across her tearful face, "You had to ask?" She began typing once again and soon she had isolated the plate, sharpened the image and identified the licence. Abby turned to Tony, an even broader smile on her face, considering the circumstances, "088-NDI, that's something I can work with, Tony. I'll put out a BOLO." She looked back at the frozen video, "Is there anything else on there?"

"I don't know... Want to find out?" He asked, wary of what else may be on the tape.

"...Ok." She replied, reaching over to one of her various other desks and grabbing Bert, hugging him tightly to her chest. She pressed play and she and Tony watched the security camera tape intensely.

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**A/N: This is probably one of the shortest chapters to this story but I hope you don't mind too much...**

**As usual, reviews are very welcome.  
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	10. No Games

**A/N: Ooooh what lovely reviews you brilliant people write - it makes me smile to read such wonderful comments. :D So...As promised, here's the next chapter - Gibbs is in this one too...**

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The door to Gibbs' prison opened slowly, but he barely noticed. He cracked his eyes open, intending to glare at the man who had just entered, but shut them immediately as light blasted into his skull. "Is my little pet awake?" Smith asked, squatting right in front of Gibbs, who was sitting against the back wall, and allowing his acidic, foul-smelling breath to wash over his hostage. Gibbs coughed, then turned his head away from the rank smell, wincing as he stretched the cuts on his neck and face. "Your team still hasn't come to find you. Either you handpicked a bunch of idiots, or you screwed up a bunch of half-intelligent people, teaching them your _stupid_ Marine rules! What do you think?" He yelled, spittle flying at Gibbs. He placed the phone on the ground next to them, so that, when Gibbs did not answer, Smith was able to grab Gibbs' neck with one hand and turned his head to face him. "The less you answer me, the more I will punish your pathetic, useless, incompetent team. Should I start with Mr. Insecurity DiNozzo?" Smith asked. Gibbs spluttered and sprayed flecks of blood into Smith's face, whose face turned a deeper shade of angry red. "BASTARD!" Smith tightly grabbed Gibbs' neck - choking him and making him struggle. Gibbs continued to scrabble at the man's wrists and wheezed as Smith pulled him to his feet, but he could not loosen the vice like grip around his throat. Just as his vision began swimming, Gibbs used all his remaining strength to knee his attacker in the side, releasing the pressure around his neck for long enough to take several deep breaths before Smith tightened it once more. "You can fight me all you like – I'm going to kill you either way, it's just a question of _how_ you want to die: slowly and painfully - like my brother; or quickly." He whispered in Gibbs' ear and pressing his knee into the struggling man's ribs, setting off another bout of coughs and etching more lines of pain on the injured man's face. "Personally I hope you go for option one." Smith added, his hollow eyes boring into GIbbs' - showing how sincerely the Smith wished to hurt Gibbs.

"It doesn't matter...how you...kill me. I can't...tell you...anything...if I'm...dead." Gibbs muttered, black spots forming once again in his vision.

"You think anything you tell me will change my mind? I've been planning this for eight years." Smith laughed sardonically.

"Why...didn't...you...do...this...earlier?" The gunnery sergeant asked, air becoming more and more difficult to take in with his restricted airway. The question made Smith relax his grip on Gibbs' neck slightly, allowing Gibbs to take deeper breaths. "It doesn't matter now." Suddenly, Smith released his hold on Gibbs, letting him slide to the floor and into a crumpled heap. Gibbs massaged his bruised neck and gulped for breath, while scowling at the man towering over him. Smith bent down next to Gibbs again and tore off the makeshift bandage wrapped around his head and used it to wipe the blood from his face. He sent a final violent kick in Gibbs' direction and then walked out.

Gibbs rolled slowly onto his uninjured side, knowing he _should_ lie on his other side but decided it would be too painful, and closed his eyes. He hoped that he would be able to fall asleep but it would not happen. The pounding in his head had been aggravated by Smith and as he moved slightly he felt dizzy and nauseous. His ribs burned and radiated through his chest, spreading to his heavy limbs. He remembered Smith's taunts over his team's inability to find him and felt his anger building – he trusted his team: they would _never_ let him down; they would find him. He knew it. He just hoped Smith knew it too. Eventually Gibbs fell asleep, contemplating how to thank them without actually _telling_ them how grateful he was.

* * *

Tony and Abby were sitting outside Director Shepard's office, waiting to be called in. "Are you sure you want to do this, Abby?" Tony asked his close friend who still had residual tearstains tracking down her face. Abby had followed Tony to the director's office without invitation and was clinging to his arm like a frightened child - Tony did not mind, in fact it comforted him as well - but had no time to answer because Cynthia spoke first, "Director Shepard will see you now." The waiting pair stood up and Tony held open the door for Abby, closing it behind him as he stepped in. If Tony had not known Shepard for a long time, he would have said she was completely unaffected by an agent she knew and admired being missing, but as it was he noticed the subtle hints – bags under her eyes, her icier-than-normal glare, her desk devoid of any files other than Leroy Jethro Gibbs'. "Have a seat." She said,keeping her voice level and without emotion, motioning to the empty settee. "What have you got?"

"Nothing we didn't already know. We put out an APB on Smith's van, McGee's still trying to get an address for the storage unit Smith rents and Ziva is trying to get a warrant _without_ the address."

"I'm trying to put together a map of Gibbs' movements before his cell was switched off." Abby added. Shepard glanced at the tape in Tony's hand, "Is there anything else on there that I should know about?" Tony looked from Abby to the director, his hesitation confirming Jenny's suspicions and giving her time to grab the tape from his loose grip and shove it in the player. What came up on screen shocked her and set off Abby's quiet sobs again. A man who was obviously Gibbs was walking towards a white van, gun in hand. The occupants of the office gasped as he reached the window and there was a small flash. Abby couldn't help whispering Gibbs' name as he fell backwards and landed heavily on the concrete. The driver's door opened and another man stepped out, "Smith!" Shepard growled – she didn't need the image to be enhanced to recognise the man's face. Smith grabbed Gibbs' arms and dragged him to the back of the van, opening the doors and hauling the unconscious man into the back.

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**A/N: So...Now they know what really happened to Gibbs...will the team him in time?**

**As usual reviews are welcome so please press that button...  
**


	11. One Step Closer

**A/N: Glad you're all enjoying this and once again thanks for the excellent reviews I'm getting.**

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Slowly, Gibbs came back to awareness, someone beating an excruciating beat on the inside of his skull just behind his bloodshot eyes. He carefully opened his eyes and was pleased to find the room he was being held in was immersed in almost complete blackness. The marine was still taking shallow, rasping breaths but the pain in his ribs had partially subsided, only to be replaced by a gnawing ache in his knees. He placed his free hand – the one not rubbing his bruised legs, trying to relieve the niggling ache – palm down on the ground beside him. He had intended to push himself up to sit straight-backed against the wall but there was something other than the concrete floor underneath his hand. Investigating further, he found that it was a small rectangular object which felt surprisingly like...

_My cell!_

If the thought of a sudden expulsion of air from his injured lungs was not so painful, Gibbs would have shouted in triumph. As it was, he flipped it open and pressed '1'. His relief was short-lived however as the screen failed to light up. He swore under his breath.

_Just my luck to run out of battery at the only time I actually _want_ to make a call!_

He was sorely tempted to throw the damn thing at the door: the only thing that saved it was the knowledge that it contained a GPS tracker, which would aid his team in finding him – if they remembered in their frantic search.

Gibbs shoved the run-down phone into his pocket in case Smith moved him again then let his head slump forward, coming to rest against his chest. He was dog-tired, his head hurt like hell and each breath he took sent ripples of pain through him. His knees ached from the repeated abuse they had suffered throughout the years. Even the old scar from where Ari had shot him ached – either from the cold concrete behind him or because of fresh injury: he could not tell.

_Well, I'm certainly not getting any younger. If I was as young as DiNozzo, I would've been able to take out Smith in the parking lot. Maybe I should retire...again..._

Smith interrupted his musings as he thumped open the door, a gun in one hand, a phone in the other. He stepped into the room and pushed the door closed – it had to be locked on the outside and he was not planning on letting Gibbs go anytime soon. He took another step towards Gibbs and dialled a number into the phone. "Shall we see what your director is willing to do in exchange for you, Leroy?"

* * *

For a moment the room was silent - the NCIS agents who were standing in their director's office having just watched their fellow agent being shot - then it was broken by the director's phone ringing. She stretched over to reach it and picked it up, "Yes, Cynthia?"

"_There's an Allen Smith on the phone for you – he says he has information vital to the search for Special Agent Gibbs._"

"Get Special Agent McGee to start running a trace then, when he's started, put Smith through." Tony and Abby straightened at the name and looked questioningly at Shepard who ignored them. There was a click as the call was transferred through to her line and she heard breathing on the other end. "_Director Shepard?_"

"Smith." Jenny growled, placing the phone on speaker.

"_I hope you're not losing hope of finding your agent – it's more fun when someone's chasing you._"

"What do you want, Smith?" She asked through gritted teeth.

"_What do _I_ want? I want my brother back. We all know he didn't kill that Petty Officer but your Agent Gibbs planted evidence to incriminate him._" Jenny did not know whether the man was having a mental breakdown or seriously believed his brother was still alive. "Your brother is dead. I investigated the case with Agent Gibbs – it was an open and shut case."

"_NO! My brother died in prison for something he didn't do, and now someone _you_ love is going to pay. Gibbs being such an easy target is just an added bonus._" Tony was distracted by his phone vibrating and he looked at the screen – it was a text from McGee. 'Trace difficult. Signal v. poor. Keep on phone'

"...One problem with this plan of yours." There was a muffled groan in the background and a loud exclamation on Smith's end. '_Shut up!_'Jenny swallowed nervously – whatever it was Smith had done to Gibbs it was bad.

"_And what's that?_"

"What have you done to him?"

"_What is the problem with my plan?_" Smith sounded angry that anyone could doubt his highly thought out plan. Swallowing her concern for Gibbs' welfare, Jenny answered, "I...I don't love him anymore." Tony raised his eyebrows but remained silent. "You can't use him as a negotiating tool against me... I don't love him."

"_Really? You seemed pretty attached to him when he was interviewing my brother._" Smith accused. Jenny's mind flashed back to the interrogation eight years previously.

* * *

_Jethro is leaning over Thomas Smith, his hands planted firmly on the desk, 'Why'd you kill Petty Officer Carnell and his wife? Was it jealousy? Revenge? Love?' Jethro punctuates each motive by slamming his palm on the desk, inches from Smith's manacled wrists. He's pushing him but I daren't interrupt the interrogation – I did once and have never since. 'I'm telling you I _didn't_ kill them! I don't know what you're talking about! Where's my lawyer?' Smith is still insisting he didn't kill them but I don't believe him: we found his blood at the scene, his fingerprints on the door and in the house and most importantly we found them on the murder weapon. 'You'll get your lawyer once you tell me why you killed them.' This is why I love Jethro – he's not afraid to bend the rules...Okay break the rules, but he's just getting the job done. 'I didn't kill them!' Smith shouts, slamming his fists on the table. Ha! Jethro's getting to him now. He'll break soon enough. 'We found your fingerprints on the murder weapon, your blood at the scene and you expect us to believe you didn't kill them?'_

'_That's not possible!' Smith stands up, only to be forced back into his chair by Jethro. 'I don't even know who Petty Officer Carnell is. Why would I kill them?'_

'_I asked _you_ that, didn't I. You're the murderer, not me!' I can't believe Jethro's taunting this man, this monster – he bludgeoned two people to death with a crowbar and Jethro's goading him. 'I'm telling you—' Ooh Jethro's going for the photos. He lays them on the table in front of Smith – the mutilated remains of the couple and their driving licence photos – before and after pictures, classic Jethro. _

_Suddenly Smith erupts from his chair, sending it clattering back against the wall and taking Jethro by surprise – not an easy thing to do to a Marine. I'm still standing in the viewing room and I watch as Smith charges at Jethro, pinning him against the wall. It's only been a few months since his last encounter with an angry suspect (and the tail end of a very heavy oar) and I see him grimacing as he slams into the wall. I don't know if I should intervene or let Jethro fight his own battle, but as Smith swings the discarded chair at him, I change my mind and rush from the room. I hear Jethro shout at Smith to stop just as I reach the door and try the handle. It won't turn. God damn it! Why won't it turn? I try barging it with my shoulder. There's a final cry of pain from the other side and then a thump as a body hits the floor. I ram the door again and find myself stumbling into the room. Something grabs my wrist and stops me from falling flat on my face and embarrassing myself. I turn around and look at my rescuer's bloodied face. 'Jethro, are you alright?' I ask, placing a palm on his cheek and producing a tissue to wipe the blood running from his nose. 'I'm fine Jen.' I can't help but laugh at his mumble and place an arm around his middle, gently pulling him closer. 'Ow! Watch my ribs, Jen!' I laugh again and kiss his cheek, then release him to look down at_

* * *

"That was eight years ago, Smith, I've changed..._He's_ changed."

"_He's still a stubborn bastard—_"

"Some things never change, but I don't love him anymore." On the other end there was a rustling and the sound of a metal latch being undone, then, "_Well, well, Special Agent Gibbs, it looks like you're going to be here for a while longer. Your director certainly doesn't seem in any hurry to rescue you._" The NCIS agents listening heard the sound of a fist hitting flesh and then Smith's voice again. "_Why don't you tell him what you told me? What's the problem with my plan? Oh and we're on speaker now by the way – what do you think I'll do if you lie?_"

"_Jen?_" Gibbs' voice was weak and Tony could have sworn he heard fear in it as well as the layers of pain. "I'm sorry Jethro..."

"_The problem, director._" Smith insisted.

"The plan won't work because...because..." Tony looked meaningfully at Shepard, trying to communicate his thoughts.

_She's not seriously going to admit she doesn't love him. It'll break him. He'll give up. I know he's not one to give up but this might just make him._

She ignored his warning look, "...Because I...I don't—"

"Boss, do not give up! We're going to find you." Tony interrupted, terminating the call as soon as he finished speaking. Shepard stood in stunned silence, her face slowly turning a deep shade of red. "What the HELL did you just do Agent DiNozzo!"

"With all due respect, _ma'am_, if you allow Smith's taunts to affect you, Gibbs has no hope." Despite the red-faced director standing a foot from him, Tony managed to keep his voice in check, only lowering it to comment further. "Gibbs may be a very private man, Director Shepard, but I know what it would do to him if he heard that." He stalked to the door, closely followed by a half scowling, half crying Abby, then turned around. "And if that's how you really feel, then you should tell him..._after_ we get him back and _after_ he's recovered fully. Do you understand...ma'am?" Jenny was too shocked to reply and merely nodded sheepishly to the junior agent as he left.

* * *

**A/N: So by now you should know what I'm going to say, but I'm going to do it anyway xD**

**Reviews pleeease!  
**


	12. On My Side

**A/N: Thanks to all of you who have reviewed this so far - I hope the regular updates I try to stick to are a small reward to all of you - I missed last night's update due to a migraine :( Sorry.  
**

* * *

_Previously_

"What's the problem with my plan?_" Smith sounded angry that anyone could doubt his highly thought out plan. Swallowing her concern for Gibbs' welfare, Jenny answered, "I...I don't love him anymore." Tony raised his eyebrows but remained silent, "You can't use him as a negotiating tool against me. I don't love him."  
_

* * *

Concentrating hard on the conversation – trying to hear it through the buzzing in his ears and the throbbing in his head – Gibbs waited anxiously to hear the weakness in Smith's 'plan'. He could tell Jenny was reluctant to say but he did not understand why – after all, it may prove useful if he tried to escape. But he hated waiting. "Jen?" He hated how weak he sounded, his chest constricting painfully with each breath.

"_I'm sorry, Jethro..._" Her response made his heart seize and more pain caught in his chest, making it harder to breath. Something was wrong. "The problem, director." Smith was smiling – a cruel, heartless smile that revealed more about his mentality than any psychological assessment ever could. Gibbs heard the director take a deep breath before continuing, "_The plan won't work because...because..._" She stopped again, and Gibbs could have sworn he heard her take a deep breath. Not knowing what advantage he had was killing Gibbs. "_...Because I...I don't—_"

"_Boss, don't give up! We're going to find you._" If he had not butted in at such a crucial moment, Tony's reassurance would have been a comfort. Instead, it left Gibbs wondering what the director had been about to say.

_DiNozzo! What the hell are you doing?_

"Well it looks like they don't care what happens to you, Gibbs." Smith said, happily, throwing the phone against the wall - it shattered on impact and shards of plastic rained down onto Gibbs. "But I did warn them that it would be you who experienced the repercussions of not answering my questions." He advanced towards Gibbs, a menacing look on his face, "Maybe you'd prefer to know what Director Shepard had to say about you. I can tell you if you want to know." Gibbs stayed silent, even though he was dying to know what she said. "No? You're sure?" Still Gibbs did not answer. "Ok then, let the fun begin." Smith said, brandishing the pistol he was holding and pointing it at Gibbs, an evil smile plastered across his face.

* * *

Abby was almost as shocked as the director at Tony's insubordinate behaviour, but she knew the reason. She would have done exactly the same thing had Tony not reacted faster, although she was not sure she would have dared telling Shepard what to do. As soon as they were out of sight of Cynthia, Abby gave Tony a huge, bone-crushing hug which he obligingly returned. "Wow Tony. You're turning into Gibbs."

"Thanks Abbs...I think." Tony still could not believe he had told Jenny what to do, "Let's go find McGee – he was supposed to be running a trace." Abby leant over the rails on the landing of the upper floor and looked down at the bullpen, "There he is." Tony wasted no time in getting there and simply yelled at the younger agent from the top of the stairs.

"McGee!" Tim jumped and then turned round to glare at the pair.

"What, Tony?"

"Did you get a location? We had a long enough conversation." Tony asked as he walked down to the lower level.

"I didn't get an exact location because Smith was using the phone somewhere with weak signal - meaning the trace took longer - you hung up before I could complete the trace_. Fortunately_ I managed to get to within a five mile radius before you cut him off."

Tony growled threateningly. "WHERE, McGee?". The younger agent brought up a map on the plasma and motioned at a large area sectioned into several circles – the different cell towers. "Here, in Ecklington." Tony thought for a moment, while scrutinising the detailed map.

"Are there any Capital Storage warehouses there?" McGee checked the list of warehouses he had printed off and was pleased to find one.

"Yep, 301 New York Avenue NE."

"That's a good job, McGee." Tony praised, rushing to his desk and grabbing his weapon and badge. "Ziva gear up – you're with me!" Grabbing her own weapon and her rucksack, Ziva dashed after Tony as he made his way to the elevator. "McGee call ahead and get me the guy's storage number. And send us the blueprints for the building."

"On it, boss...Tony!"

_Damn it! I always call Tony 'boss' when I'm stressed._

* * *

In the elevator, Tony shrugged as Ziva turned to him. "You're never going to let him forget that one are you?" Tony only grinned brightly in response and exited the elevator as they came to the ground floor. He tossed his keys to Ziva, much to her surprise, "You drive. You'll get us there much faster..."

_Although not necessarily in one piece._

He jumped into the passenger seat and buckled himself in, preparing for one of the most frightening experiences in his life. "Don't look so nervous: it's not like I've just spent six months in Britain."

"I'll be the judge of that." Tony said, gulping as they went round a corner at almost double the speed limit, almost colliding with another car.

* * *

**A/N: This chapter overruns a little with the last one but I felt it neccessary to provide Gibbs' POV on the "negotiation" . Hope you don't mind, and as usual reviews are welcome and make me very happy.  
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	13. Now Or Never

**A/N: So you've all been asking when I'm going to bring Gibbs back and I figured I might as well start him on his way.**

**Thanks ever so much for all the great reviews for the last couple of chapters - especially CD57, iGymnast, memnoxx and hotchner - but also everyone else who has reviewed so far, encouraging me to continue.  
**

* * *

Gibbs had always imagined that he would eventually end up being killed with his own weapon – he'd threatened to do it himself on many occasions after Shannon and Kelly's deaths – and this time he thought that maybe his luck had run dry. His dependable team was nowhere to be seen (Tony having doomed him to a further beating for cutting off Shepard before she could answer). He was alone in a dark, damp, windowless room with only a grinning, gun-toting psychopath for company. He was in pain, although he would never admit it unless under serious duress. He was scared – another thing he would never admit unless under extremely extenuating circumstances.

He was wrong.

As Smith continued to threaten physical violence, Gibbs just withdrew further into himself until he reached the highly focused state he had only attained once before. It shut out all the pain he was feeling, emotional and physical, and concentrated him. He stared defiantly into Smith's eyes even as he levelled the gun at him. He watched Smith pull the trigger to first pressure, but when Gibbs' hand shot up and twisted the gun from Smith's grip, it was like watching from somebody else's eyes. He brought his knee up to connect jarringly with Smith's chin who staggered backwards, swearing. Somehow, Gibbs found himself on his feet and swinging punches in Smith's direction, each one finding their intended target with brutal force. When Smith toppled to the ground unconscious, Gibbs immediately regained control of his body. It ached, each muscle group screaming in pain, his head pounding like a bass roll in one of Abby's heavier songs. Gibbs stooped awkwardly and picked up the abandoned gun and then put up a hand against the wall to steady himself and gradually began staggering to the door.

He swung the heavy door open and stumbled outward into a dimly lit corridor. Leaning against the beige walls, Gibbs edged his way closer to what looked vaguely like an exit. Each jerky step he took put further pressure on his injuries and sent slivers of pain shooting through them. He had only taken a few steps when he became dizzy and woozy, collapsing painfully to his knees, and began retching. Once the vomiting had stopped, he just wanted to crawl into a ball and fall asleep but he was determined not to do so in a pool of blood-flecked sick. As he inched his way forwards on his hands and knees, he realised that it was in some ways easier on his wounds if he walked.

He got up and again felt lightheaded but refused to double over, and so continued edging towards the exit, until a voice interrupted his slow toddle, "You won't make it out of here alive, Leroy." Smith laughed as Gibbs turned around slowly and then coughed fiercely. Gibbs was still using the wall for support and had one arm wrapped tightly around his chest; the other concealing his repossessed SIG behind his back. He sighed as he caught sight of the shotgun hanging loosely at Smith's side, "What...you're going to shoot me now?" He paused and raised his empty hand to his head, wiping away the blood that was trailing down his forehead. "Like you tried to do...the last time?" Gibbs waved his hand around him, "You may not have noticed...but that didn't work." Smith laughed again, setting off another brief coughing fit.

"No wonder you've been shot so many times: you just can't help but provoke and antagonize...But normally you're armed or your team is backing you up. Not this time, Leroy, not this time." He spat Gibbs' name as though it pained him to say it. He stared at the injured man leaning against the wall, as if expecting a response. Gibbs, however, was concentrating on avoiding losing consciousness. He watched, fake horror and fear plastered on his face, as Smith levelled the shotgun at him. Shifting slightly, Gibbs manoeuvred his hidden weapon into a freer position and separated his feet in preparation to fire. "Where's your prized team now? I left enough clues, and yet they still haven't found you." He fired two shots, one of which embedded itself in Gibbs' shoulder, the other shattering the concrete wall opposite him and showering Gibbs with shards of concrete. Gibbs twisted as he was thrown backwards and landed on his shrapnel-ridden shoulder, grimacing in pain. He did not notice Smith towering over him, reloading, until he spoke. "They left you behind, Leroy, they failed you, let you down, they deserted their dedicated boss." Smith paused - either for dramatic effect or to catch his breath: Gibbs could not tell, "Can you forgive them?" He raised the shotgun again. "Any last words?"

"How about...It worked this time." Gibbs said, drawing his own weapon and ignoring the protests from numerous broken bones and his bleeding shoulder. His target's expression changed from confusion to anger and then to pain as he realised Gibbs' intentions and moments later felt hot searing pain flash through his chest. Gibbs instantly felt wave after wave of pain wash over him and his head dropped back heavily against the floor he was lying on. His world went black.

* * *

NCIS Special Agent Timothy McGee was not having a good day: first he had been attacked by a suspect and broken his leg; second his boss had been kidnapped by said suspect; and third the storage company was being completely uncooperative. "Look, I'm a federal agent and I need you to tell me what number the storage unit that Allen Smith rents is...Yes I understand that you are not obliged to provide such information without a warrant but this is a matter of life and death...NO I'm not exaggerating – my boss, Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs, is being held hostage there and I need to inform the search party of his whereabouts...No, don't put me on hol—" McGee threw the phone at Tony's desk, unable to take anymore elevator music and people running him in circles.

* * *

Tony and Ziva, however, had arrived at the storage building and were talking to the same receptionist McGee had just hung up on. "We're federal agents—"

"I think I was just speaking to one of your guys. He was very impolite – hung up on me and everything." Tony felt his anger building as the girl behind the desk pulled a strand of chewing gum from between her teeth and began twirling it around her thumb, and it took every last vestige of self-control to not walk round the desk and wheel her away from her desk. "I don't have time for this. Either you tell us what we want to know or I _will_ charge you as an accomplice to the kidnap and attempted murder of an NCIS agent. Do you understand?" She realised that Tony was deadly serious and nodded silently, handing over a list of all the customers. Scanning down the names, Tony came to the one he was interested in – Allen Smith. "Unit twenty-one. Where is that?" Tony's abrupt question startled the receptionist, who took several deep breaths before answering.

"There's a door outside that'll lead you to it – it's an internal unit for wooden furniture and electrics."

"Thank you." The senior field agent sounded more than a little exasperated as he strode from the room, closely followed by Ziva. Once outside they walked towards the larger warehouse, checking door numbers as they went.

* * *

**A/N: Is Smith dead? Will Gibbs make it out or will Tony and Ziva get to him in time? What if he doesn't make it? :O Oooh that seems very mean. **

**But you'll just have to wait ONE day to read the next chapter and find out :P Of course reviews might make me write faster xD  
**


	14. March Out Of The Darkness

**A/N: Well it's now tomorrow and as promised I have another chapter for you. CD57 here's a really long chapter for you.**

**As usual, thanks to all of you for such excellent reviews, and yes memnoxx I do know that killing Gibbs off is not an option...but nobody said _almost_ killing him isn't :P  
**

* * *

Gibbs awoke disorientated, lying on a cold floor with his lower legs in something wet and sticky. He sat up suddenly and instantly regretted it, but he did not lie back down, instead groaning and pushing himself up against the wall, blinking furiously to clear his fuzzy vision. As he surveyed the grizzly scene in front of him, Gibbs realised Smith was dead – he certainly could not survive such massive blood loss. The blood was pooling around the lifeless body and spreading out, seeping along the corridor in both directions. Gibbs forced himself to turn away as he began to feel unusually queasy and to focus on finding his way out. Deciding he had probably turned around to face Smith before he had been shot, Gibbs tried to stand, but his legs were like jelly.

_C'mon Jethro, get up! Get up, damn it!_

Finally, by manoeuvring his legs underneath him with his relatively pain-free arm, he managed to get up. He proceeded to stumble down the corridor, again using the wall for support and finally reached a door. The marine hesitated as he reached for the handle, fleetingly doubting his reasoning behind choosing the direction he had staggered in and worrying about more hostiles being on the other side of the door. Nonetheless, quashing his reservations, Gibbs turned the handle and pushed the door weakly. He was amazed that he even had the strength to push it forwards and so stuck his left hand through the gap to stop it swinging shut.

* * *

Tony and Ziva froze as the door they were walking towards and about to breach swung open and a single hand appeared. "NCIS! Freeze!" The pair yelled in unison.

"Come out with your hands where we can..." Tony added. He paused as he noticed a metal bracelet on the wrist, glinting in the strong sunlight, and the blood running down the arm and dripping onto the concrete. There was only one person Tony knew who wore a silver bracelet on his left wrist.

"Gibbs..." He muttered, making the Mossad officer turn to him, a shocked expression on her face. He called out to the person behind the door, "Boss? ...Is that you, Gibbs?" The door swung open fully and the pair stood rooted to the spot. It was Gibbs. They had found him. Immediately, Tony lowered his weapon, holstering it at his side, and started forwards, while Ziva dialled for an ambulance and also called Dr. Mallard.

* * *

Gibbs walked unsteadily through the open door then stopped, staring at the two people standing in front of him, their weapons drawn. One of them was calling to him, but he could not make out what the man was saying. Gibbs raised his own weapon, causing the advancing man to stop. "...Boss?" It was a soft, coaxing call – not meant to threaten – and the voice sounded gentle and genuinely concerned. There was no hint of hostility in it, but Gibbs still was not sure and his eyes flickered between the man and the woman on the phone. The man took another step forward but stopped again as Gibbs pulled back the hammer, clicking it into place, "It's me, Tony." Again the voice, only just penetrating the buzzing in Gibbs' ears, was comforting and the man took another step forward. Gibbs squinted at the man. There was something familiar about him, something reassuring. "We found you...Jethro." At the mention of his first name, Gibbs eyes snapped to the man's face. "T-Tony?" His voice sounded embarrassingly weak, it was almost a whisper. Gibbs watched as his senior field agent beamed at him, "Are you alright, DiNozzo?" The question would have drawn a laugh from Tony's lips but the seriousness of their situation prevented it. Every day Anthony DiNozzo was stunned by his boss' selflessness, and it made him proud to be a member of Gibbs' team.

Tony closed the gap between them to just a few strides and then responded to Gibbs' question, "Yeah Gibbs, we're all fine – Abby and the director are at the Navy Yard with McGee, Ziva's here with me and Ducky and Palmer are on their way here. We're _all_ ok." He paused, wondering whether Gibbs would respond to his next question in a Gibbs way or like a normal, _not _infallible person. "Are _you_ alright, Gibbs?" As if in answer to his query, Gibbs swayed and Tony took another few steps forward, reaching out to steady the rocking man, but Gibbs jerked away, his expression one that Tony had never seen before – pure, animal fear. "He said you'd left me behind." The older man said, then coughed harshly, spraying the tarmac with a fine mist of blood. Again Tony reached for him only to have Gibbs stumble away, clutching his ribs protectively.

_God, Gibbs, what has that animal done to you?_

"No!" He countered Gibbs' accusation a little louder than he had intended, and the volume set Gibbs on an even thinner knife edge than he was already balanced precariously on. Tony lowered his voice back to the soothing whisper of before, "You're like a father to me, Gibbs. I would _never, ever_ even consider leaving you behind. You taught me better than that." The sincere assurance seemed to calm the nervous man – he let the pistol drop to the ground – and he took a few short steps forwards, still however giving Tony a wide berth. Thinking he would keep walking to the car, Tony hung back and observed the man's injuries.

After a further few steps, Gibbs felt his legs give way and collapsed to his knees, dizziness pervading his skull and sending waves of nausea rippling through him. Instantly Tony was at his side, gently lowering him to the ground, careful to avoid his injured ribs. As he was sitting on the ground, cradling Gibbs' damaged torso as he had done after Ari had infiltrated NCIS, Tony realised how cold the man was and tore off his suit jacket in order to drape it over his colleague. For the first time in the past forty-eight hours, Gibbs felt secure: there was no suspect to chase, no enraged navy personnel to charge at him, no hostage takers beating him; just the comfort and safety of somebody else watching out for him. For the first time in the past forty-eight hours, Gibbs stopped fighting the pull of unconsciousness and closed his eyes. Tony, however, had other ideas, "No, no...Boss, wake up, at least until the medics get here." There was no response so Tony shook the man gently, eliciting a low groan from Gibbs but no other response.

"Tony, is he alright?" The voice behind him startled Tony.

"I don't know, Ziva. I think he's unconscious."

"Donkeyhole!" Ziva spat in disgust at the damage Smith had done. "I called an ambulance, and Ducky's on his way...Has he said anything about Smith?"

"No...I didn't ask." Tony replied, not even registering Ziva's mistake – too busy applying pressure to Gibbs' bleeding shoulder. "Shall I go and check out the storage rooms?" Ziva asked, already bored.

"No, wait until back-up arrives." Ziva opened her mouth to protest but Tony cut her off, "I don't want another of my team to come out looking like they've been through several wars and then gone back for more." He motioned to Gibbs as he provided the explanation.

"If we wait, he may escape, Tony. Gibbs would go after the guy." Tony's face turned a deep shade of red.

"David, you looked at the blueprints: there _are_ no other exits, no windows, there aren't even any vents. If you go in there and Gibbs didn't kill that son of a bitch then you'd be walking straight into an ambush." The agent glanced down at the still unconscious Gibbs leaning against his chest then looked back at his friend, his voice softening slightly. "I don't know how I'd cope with only McGee to tease."

"Fine." She huffed and then walked back to the car.

* * *

_Twenty Minutes Later_

The back-up had arrived earlier than Tony expected, and Ziva instantly insisted on storming the building. So adamantly in fact that they spent the next ten minutes arguing over whether or not she should participate in such an action. Eventually Tony gave in to the Israeli's demand, waving her away. "Fine, go! I'll man the fort—" Tony broke off as Gibbs stirred.

"T-Tony? Zee...?" His voice was weak and husky and he could not suppress a hacking cough. Blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth as the coughing fit ended. Tony wiped it away and then helped him sit up so that he could breathe more easily. "I'm here boss. Ziva's just going to make sure you killed that bastard." Tony said, whilst absent-mindedly rubbing the man's back – something about which Gibbs did not complain, which worried Tony. The sound of more engines made Tony turn towards the sound – it was Ducky and the paramedics. He waved the medical examiner and his assistant over.

"What's Jethro got himself into this...Oh my!" Ducky muttered as he walked towards the two men sitting on the ground, and Gibbs' injuries became more apparent, "What happened, Tony?" He asked, kneeling at Gibbs' side and placing his fingers on his neck. The pulse he finally found was weak and thready, but it was there nonetheless. Silently, he nodded his approval at the pressure Tony was applying to the shoulder wound, although he was using a less than sanitary handkerchief to stem the bleeding. "I don't know, Ducky. Ziva and I were approaching the door when it opened. He collapsed as we were walking to the car." He paused to consider his next statement, "I grabbed him as he fell and now he's kinda pinning me to the ground. I couldn't take the car and leave Ziva here without back-up, but I couldn't let her go in by herself so I just stayed here...He's going to be alright isn't he, Duck?" Tony sounded as if he was pleading with Ducky to make it all better. Dr. Mallard sighed, not knowing whether to be truthful or overly-optimistic.

_If anything happens to Gibbs, if he gets worse, Tony'll blame himself._

There was only one thing to say. "You mustn't blame yourself, Anthony. Gibbs certainly won't...In fact he'll probably be proud that you demonstrated such leadership and consideration for the situation."

Ducky rummaged in his medical bag for the bandages he always kept, just in case, and then looked up at Jimmy Palmer who was hovering uselessly above him, "Mr. Palmer, I suggest you collect whatever medical supplies you can find in the truck that will aid Agent Gibbs and bring them back here." The nervous young man immediately agreed and dashed back to the M.E.'s van. Ducky handed Tony a large wad of bandage to replace the blood-soaked handkerchief being pressed into the lifeless man's shoulder. He also wiped away the blood that caked the marine's face and used another, smaller wad to staunch the bleeding from the head wound, binding it in place with another, thinner bandage tied around Gibbs' head. "Has he been coughing blood?" Ducky asked, his hands hovering above Gibbs' chest.

"Yeah." Tony answered wearily, knowing what it meant.

"I need to check his ribs – he's probably punctured a lung." Tony just nodded – he knew how serious a punctured lung was, having had it explained to him after his partner in Baltimore PD had been shot in the chest, the bullet puncturing his lung. Ducky hesitantly ran his hands over Gibbs' ribs, cursorily counting the number that were actually broken. After the first check, he applied more pressure to make sure he had not missed any. It extracted another grumble from Gibbs, but he still refused to open his eyes – not that that would be easy as they had swollen shut. Immediately the Scot stopped and removed his hands. "Jethro?" The gunnery sergeant grunted in reply. "Jethro, I need you to open your eyes." Still no lucid response, "I know you can hear me, Jethro." Nothing.

_Let's try a diff—_

"Boss? It's Tony. Come on, wake up. Ducky's here." The younger man coaxed, reducing his voice to a soft whisper. "It's safe, Gibbs. I've got you." Ducky was surprised by the compassion in Tony's tone as he appealed to Gibbsonce more, "Open your eyes, Jethro."

"What...DiNozzo?" Gibbs hissed, the surrounding noise adding to his pounding headache.

"I'm sorry to cause you further pain, Jethro, but I need to take a look at that nasty shoulder wound you've picked up. Do you remember what happened?" Ducky inquired, watching as his patient took a long, shuddering breath. "Shotgun." Tony's eyebrows rose slightly.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you that playing with guns is dangerous, dear boy?" Ducky said, trying to distract Gibbs from the pain he was causing as he probed his shoulder for the pellets that had embedded themselves in it. It did not work. Gibbs hissed and tensed at each prod. Instinctively, Tony slipped his hand into Gibbs' free one and squeezed it in support – surprised when Gibbs grasped it weakly.

When he had finished examining the shoulder, Ducky leant back to get a better look at his patient. A thin sheen of sweat coated Gibbs, he had turned a pale grey and his face was contorted in pain. "How bad is the pain, Gibbs?" Ducky did not really expect an answer but it was worth a shot – Gibbs simply took another juddering breath, "Jethro, On a scale of one to ten, how bad's the pain?"

_He won't want to show any_ more_ weakness in front of his team, especially not Anthony, and it's worked before._

For the first time, Gibbs cracked open his eyes and studied DiNozzo's face then closed them with a sigh that came out more like a gurgle, "Eight." Without meaning to, Ducky glanced at Tony and saw the same degree of concern he felt etched on Tony's face: Gibbs would _never_ normally go beyond a six, even with nobody else around.

Ducky motioned to the waiting paramedics and they hurried over without delay. He stood up then turned to Tony, "Stay with him, Anthony, even if he tells you to go." Tony nodded and then watched as Ducky went to meet the medics, engaging them in a long conversation about Gibbs' health. The NCIS agent did as he was told and stayed seated on the ground – not that he was going anywhere with his boss' deadweight pinning him to the ground. Gibbs had fallen unconscious again so Tony surveyed the scene playing out in the car park of the storage warehouse.

_I've never realised how many agents get called to one our 'incidents'. I don't even know half of their names...I wonder if Gibbs does. Actually he probably knows every single one. I'll end up like that after seventeen years too...Man, I'll be old then. Gibbs'll have retired Ziva'll be working for some secret Israeli assassination group and McGee...McGee will probably be head of the cyber division at the pentagon._

He was broken suddenly from his reverie by Ziva whispering in his ear. "He's dead." The statement would have sent Tony jumping into the air had he not been weighed down by something heavy.

_GIBBS!_

His eyes flashed to his charge. However, Gibbs was still alive. The paramedics had fitted an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose, properly bandaged his shoulder and were inserting an IV into his right arm. Satisfied that Gibbs was not going to suddenly expire, Tony looked up at Ziva. "Smith. How?"

"Looks like Gibbs shot him in the hallway. All the other rooms are clear...We found the one where he was holding Gibbs."

"Do I want to know?" Tony asked, grimacing.

"You're going to find out soon enough, but it doesn't look too bad." Tony could not help but snort indignantly.

"Does this look 'not too bad' to you, David?" He growled, almost shouting, and motioning violently at the battered body lying on him.

"DiNozzo...stop moving...before I...fire your ass!"

"Shit! Sorry boss. I thought you were still unconscious." He turned back to Ziva, "Go talk to the manager of this hellhole, find out who's signed in and out within the last seventy-two hours. Then take photos of the scene and collect evidence and take it back to Abby ASAP." Ziva was speechless as she turned away and stalked off.

One of the medics caught his eye, "We're ready to move him now. Then you can get back to your crime scene."

"No, I'm coming with you."

"But sir—" The medic protested.

"I don't care if I have to sit on the roof – I'm coming with him." Tony said adamantly.

"Fine. Can you help us get him lying down and then we'll put him on a stretcher." Tony nodded and gently lifted Gibbs' once again limp body, allowing him to move his legs from under him. As he got himself into a crouching position, he slowly lowered the man to the ground. Not once did Gibbs moan – a testament to Tony's gentleness. As they wheeled Gibbs into the idling ambulance, Tony threw his keys to Palmer, "Give those to Ziva and tell Ducky we're going to Bethesda Naval." Leaving no chance for Jimmy to reply, Tony jumped into the back of the ambulance and pulled the doors shut. He settled in the seat next to the medic and studied the injured man's face. It was strange that the only time Gibbs really looked peaceful and relaxed was when he lay unconscious.

* * *

**A/N: Is that enough angst for you CD57? Not so much team worrying, more Tony and Ducky worrying.**

**Reviews = Happiness**

**On another note (more of a rant actually but...) Why does Scotland get REALLY weird weather - one minute it's sunny, the next it's cloudy, then thunderstorms, then sunny AND raining and now it's just raining. Really heavily. *sigh*  
**


	15. Into The Light

**A/N: Yet more fantastic reviews - you guys really know how to spoil a girl - and yet another chapter as your well-earned reward. Memnoxx - yes, fortunately for you, tomorrow is today now. XD So here is the next chapter and I'm glad you're all enjoying this so much.**

* * *

Director Jenny Shepard had personally driven Abby and Agent McGee to the hospital after Abby had become so upset that she was sitting in Gibbs' chair, clutching her farting hippo. They did not arrive until half an hour after Gibbs had been admitted, and met the rest of the team, Dr. Mallard included, despite having a body in autopsy. The instant the trio entered the waiting area, Abby bombared the senior field agent with questions. "How is he, Tony? Is he going to be alright? Has he woken up yet? Why can't we see him? Wait! Don't tell me I can't take it...No, tell me!" Tony stepped forwards and wrapped his arms around the young goth.

"We don't know, Abbs. They took him for a CT scan when he arrived and then they said he was going into surgery." Abby pushed away from Tony's chest and looked at Ducky for an explanation, "He sustained a head injury and they want to check he doesn't have a serious brain injury."

"What about the surgery?" McGee asked, speaking up for the first time since his arrival, as he sat down on a chair. Ducky glanced at Tony, indicating that he should continue the report on Gibbs' condition. Tony hesitated, working out the way to cause the least distress to Abby, but still inform the others of his serious condition. "Gibbs had some broken ribs when I arrived and was coughing blood – the doctors believe one of his broken ribs has punctured a lung and they need to remove it before it causes any more damage. Also, Smith shot him in the shoulder with a shotgun, and they have to remove the fragments to allow it to heal and prevent infection." At Tony's description, McGee's face paled, the director barely stifled a gasp and a loud sob escaped Abby's lips. She pressed her face into Tony's chest once more, squeezing him tightly. As the team recovered, they each clamoured to ask further questions of both Ducky and DiNozzo. As the questions being fired at Ducky and Tony subsided, the group all settled down, sitting in the uncomfortable chairs provided to waiting relatives – Abby next to Tim, Tony with Ziva and the director with Ducky – whispering to each other as the others in the room gradually fell asleep: it had been a _very_ long three days.

Seven hours later, when a diminutive, brown-haired female doctor stepped into the room and asked for Leroy Jethro Gibbs' next of kin they all leapt into the air – all except McGee who swung his leg off the chairs and sat upright. Ducky was the first one to speak. "I'm Dr. Mallard, Jethro's personal physician, and these are his colleagues. What can you tell us about his condition, Dr...?"

"I'm Dr. Kathleen Frasier." She motioned to the door, "Would you care to—" Ducky held up his hand to interrupt the woman who was almost the same height as he was.

"Gibbs' team is like a family. Whatever it is you have to say, you can tell it to all of us." He insisted, the others in the room nodding in agreement.

"Ok. Well, the results of his CT scan came back and there is no intracranial haemorrhage. He does, however, have a grade two concussion." Director Shepard stepped forward, her neutral mask almost back in place, her composure regained. "Is that serious?" Dr. Frasier shook her head.

"It's not as bad as we initially thought. He will however have a very painful headache and be a bit confused for the next few days, but it's not life-threatening."

"What about the surgery?" Abby asked, repeating Tim's question from earlier. The doctor turned to her and was surprised by the young woman's unusual appearance. Briefly, Frasier wondered if the fragile-looking young woman in front of her could handle what she was about to be told. "It went well, we drained his chest which was causing some of the breathing difficulty and also removed a small piece of rib that had become embedded in his lung tissue and punctured it. He will still have a little trouble breathing until it has fully healed but should make a full recovery." At the mention of a 'full recovery', the group simultaneously broke into broad grins. "We also removed the bullet fragments from his shoulder. He's lost a lot of blood and we had to give him a transfusion, but we expect that wound to heal relatively quickly." Abby practically pulled Tim to his feet as she hugged him, and then did the same to Tony and Ducky in turn. Not sure whether the director deserved a hug for almost hurting Gibbs emotionally as well as physically, she smiled at the woman, then turned back to Dr. Frasier, "Can we see him?"

"He's still pretty out of it from the anaesthetic..." Abby scowled at Dr. Frasier, a scowl of which Gibbs would be proud, yet the physician merely smiled sweetly back. "...but I don't see why not. No more than two at a time and definitely not for more than five minutes each." She looked around expectantly at their faces, "Well? Who wants to go first?" Ducky, being the oldest and probably most respected person in the room, waved Abby forwards and then Tony. "Ready?" The pair nodded, "Ok, follow me please."

* * *

Buzz...

_Where the hell am I? Can't someone turn off that annoying noise?_

Gibbs tried to take a deep breath, only to find that something was obstructing his airway. He panicked and tried to cough but he could not do that either and it was extremely painful. He opened his eyes and caught the shadow of a man leaning over him, his hands gently pressing the sides of Gibbs' face, his lips moving but making no sound – there was only an incessant buzzing. As the shadow turned away, Gibbs slammed his eyes shut, trying in vain to shut out the bright light that suddenly assaulted his retinas. He caught the strong scent of disinfectant and realisation hit him.

_Oh God! Hospital!_

He continued to struggle against the object down his throat until he felt a warm and smooth hand slip into his right hand and, feeling the tenderness and compassion in that touch, he tried to prise open his eyes but they would not obey. Next, He felt a finger tracing shapes on his palm and then several short taps and longer presses.

_What the..._

The pattern of taps repeated.

_Morse code..._

Gibbs waited until the pattern had repeated a third time before he tried to reply, but again his muscles would not comply. Suddenly he felt something cold stick to his chest and he tried to wipe it away with his hands, only to be stopped by excruciating pain in his chest and left shoulder. After a few moments the cold thing was removed and the tapping on his palm resumed.

_Abby...Hospital...all...ok...doctor...remove...tube...take...deep...breath...exhale...squeeze...one...for...yes...two...for...no_

He squeezed Abby's hand once to show he understood.

_...In..._

He breathed in deeply, despite the crushing pain it caused, and held it for as long as he could. Then, as he could feel the tube slide out of his throat:

_...Out..._

The marine allowed the air he had been holding in to flow out and coughed harshly as the tube cleared his mouth. An oxygen mask was placed over his face as he cautiously opened his eyes. He was pleasantly surprised to find the lights had been dimmed and two of his colleagues were sitting at his bedside, Abby clutching his hand. When she noticed his eyes were open, although unfocused and full of pain, she smiled broadly and spoke, but Gibbs still could not hear anything other than static.

Noting his confusion as she spoke, Abby realised he could not hear and turned to Dr. Frasier, slightly dismayed and disappointed. "He can't hear us."

"It's probably a result of his concussion, but rest assured, his hearing will return in time." Dr. Frasier sounded largely unconcerned by Gibbs' lack of hearing, but still felt it necessary to reassure his team members. "For the moment however you'll have to write notes for him if you want to speak."

"Oh...no, that won't be necessary – he's a marine so he knows Morse code. That's how I told him what to do when you extubated him." Abby grinned at Gibbs again, even though he had no idea what she had said. "He also knows American sign language."

"Well, until his shoulder heals, I don't think he'll be doing much signing, but I can get an interpreter so that you can speak to him more quickly than using Morse." Dr. Frasier offered, only to be astonished by the goth again. "You don't need to do that either. I know ASL too." At that, the doctor decided that Gibbs' team would not require any help on the communication front and so left, leaving instructions for them not to get him too excited. Tony, having finished cataloguing the man's injuries – broken ribs, fingers and nose, gunshot wound to the left shoulder, several deep lacerations and some nasty bruising: he was lucky not to have any more internal bleeding – had been watching the exchange between the foresic scientist and the doctor with amusement and now turned back to his boss. Gibbs' eyes were drifting shut again, glazing over as he grew wearier, but at Tony's gentle touch to the back of his hand he blinked them open again and looked tiredly at his senior field agent. Raising his hand from the bed, Gibbs allowed Tony to take it and begin tapping out his message.

_I am glad you are ok boss. When you collapsed at the warehouse...I thought you were—_

A weak squeeze to his hand interrupted him and he knew exactly what Gibbs was thinking as he glared at him. It brought another smile to Tony's serious face and he bowed his head so that Gibbs could lightly slap the back of his head for even _thinking_ Gibbs would leave. The simple effort left him exhausted and Gibbs drifted back to sleep with his two 'kids' guarding him.

* * *

**A/N: There you go. I got him back in one piece AND he's still alive ;p Probably only one chapter left in this - unless you guys want more...**

**Hope you liked this new chapter and that you will review - critical or otherwise.**


	16. Indestructible

**A/N: So here's the penultimate chapter. A huge thank you must go to all of you reviewers out there who provided me with EXTRA inspiration AFTER I'd actually finished writing this, and made me go back to each chapter and add MORE. To all of you who reviewed the chapter 15, a huge thanks for such encouraging reviews. I know I say this almost every chapter, but you guys really are fantastic. An author could not wish for more.**

**Hope you all enjoy this chapter as much as you seem to have enjoyed the previous ones and I hope the characters don't seem OOC.**

**Oh, and happy Independence Day to all of the American readers out there.**

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After four days of lying helplessly in his hospital bed - barely managing to stay awake, Gibbs had finally regained his hearing and a little of his strength although his voice was still husky and quiet, and was now back to insisting he was perfectly healthy and could go home. "Special Agent Gibbs, I am well aware that you don't enjoy lying around in a hospital bed, and I'm sure you could find something much more interesting to do in your own home...But, despite your claims, you are _not_ 'fine'. You can go home when _I_ believe you are acceptably able, and _not_ when you _think_ you are."

The only reason Gibbs had stayed in the hospital was that he still felt exceedingly tired - the arguing with Dr. Frasier was merely a façade to persuade Abby that he was almost recovered. He was not even sure that it was working - she always seemed to visit him with another member of the team, clinging to them for support. The one time she had come alone - the two nights after he had been admitted, he had been asleep. Her juddering sobs had jarred his shoulder and he had woken to a sharp stabbing pain in his shoulder, groaning through gritted teeth. "Gibbs?" She had whispered, immediately sitting up straight, her head no longer resting gently against his injured arm. "Did I hurt you? Oh God, Gibbs, I'm so sorry!" He blinked open his eyes, still grimacing at the pain, and stared at her tiredly. "Abbs, it's alright...Nothing I can't handle." She slipped her hand into his and studied his face. His eyes lacked their usual intensity and the skin around them was creased into lines of pain. "I was so worried, Gibbs. What if Smith had killed you...Or moved you to a new location...Or left you in that room to die?"

Weakly, Gibbs raised his hand, cutting off Abby's verbalised thoughts. "He didn't, Abbs. You found me...That's all that matters." He was growing tired again, barely able to keep his eyes open. He really wanted to go back to sleep, but Abby had other ideas. "Promise me one thing, Gibbs...You won't sign out A.M.A. this time. Give yourself a chance to heal - the director's pulled the team off duty for the rest of the week anyway: there's no work for you to do." Gibbs stayed silent, not sure that he could stay in this sterile room for longer than he deemed necessary. "...Please, Gibbs. Promise?" He sighed gently, Abby knew he could never resist her pleas. He squeezed her hand once in reply, reverting back to their earlier way of communicating as he felt the pull of sleep grow stronger and reluctantly closed his eyes, succumbing to blackness. Realising that that was all she was going to get out of him, Abby leaned back in the chair, carefully extracting her hand from his limp grip, and slept.

* * *

A week later Tony wandered down the corridor towards Gibbs' room, concentrating on how he was going to broach a particularily uncomfortable subject. His concentration was broken by the sound of a heated argument coming from his boss' room. He stood a few metres back fromm the door and listened to the exchange. "...not going home, Agent Gibbs! Don't even think about removing that gown! Get back into that bed now, before I have you sedated and restrained." Tony heard Dr. Frasier yell, desperation and annoyance barely concealed by her authoritative tone. He also could have sworn he heard Gibbs mutter an unusual insult before he climbed into the bed. "I'll make you a deal Gibbs - if you promise to behave and stop trying to leave, I'll get you a pair of scrub trousers to wear. How about that?" Tony did not hear the response but he assumed Gibbs had reluctantly agreed as the doctor changed the subject. "I'll just go and get the kit I need to change your dressings, then I'll see what I can do about getting you something to wear."

She walked out of the room, turned and called, "Don't even THINK about getting out of bed again!" She nodded to Tony, who was chuckling softly, as she walked past him. After five minutes, Dr. Frasier returned with fresh bandages and the other equipment she would need, passing Tony as he remained standing outside Gibbs' room deep in thought. Tony subconsciously listened again as the woman re-dressed Gibbs' wounds, pulling at the many stitches holding his skin together, and he grumbled and gasped at the pain it caused. "Damn it! I know my shoulder's sore, I don't need you making it worse!"

"Stop complaining, Gunny, the less you resist, the sooner I'll be finished!" She replied impatiently. Gibbs was being difficult. Again. "My older sister's a USAF doctor - she told me about a regular patient of hers. Because of him, she's come up with a strategy for dealing with difficult colonels."

"Oh yeah, and what's that?" Gibbs growled back. Tony could easily imagine the glare he was giving the doctor at that very moment. He heard her laugh and then peel open a sterile pack.

"Threaten them with extra physicals!" She laughed again. "Maybe I should emulate her example...This'll hurt by the way, Agent Gibbs." Gibbs yelled an insult at the woman and Tony recognised the pain in that sharp exhalation. He winced at the pain Gibbs must be feeling. "There's no point insulting me, Agent Gibbs! I've heard them all. That sister of mine told me a great one her patient called her, but I can't remember it now." Despite the woman's attempts to distract Gibbs from the pain, Tony could not stand listening to his whimpers and moans - he had already had enough of that when Gibbs had collapsed outside the storage warehouse - and so he blocked out the grunts and growls and went back to his internal dilemma.

Twenty minutes later, Dr. Frasier exited Gibbs' room and stood in front of NCIS Special Agent DiNozzo, who was still lost in his own musings, leaning against the wall, his head back and eyes closed. "Agent DiNozzo?" Her voice shook him to awareness. "Agent DiNozzo, he's still awake if you want to speak with him, although I gave him some morphine to help him sleep." Tony nodded his thanks and shuffled to the door. It was only half past seven at night, but already the blinds were down and the lights dimmed, casting a faint glow against Gibbs' face. He stood there for a few minutes, watching the man's chest rise and fall regularly. The bandage wrapped around Gibbs' head had been replaced - it looked whiter than it had before - and the lack of a gown covering his torso (although it was mostly smothered in bandage anyway) indicated that Frasier had kept her deal and brought Gibbs a pair of scrubs to wear. Cuts littered his face, hands and arms, and deep purple bruises coloured the exposed skin of his chest. Tony shifted from one foot to the other, taking in the damage still visible from Smith's repeated beatings, as he tried to work up the courage to enter the dimly lit room. He thought he had remained silent, but when Gibbs looked in his direction, he knew he had not been quiet enough.

"What DiNozzo?" Gibbs growled, immediately knowing who it was, his voice barely carrying to the man standing in the dark in the doorway.

"Sorry, boss, did I wake you?" Tony whispered, stepping into the room and settling into the more comfortable chair at the bedside. Gibbs stared at him as he sat there silently for a few minutes, fiddling with the hem of his shirt, until Gibbs grew annoyed - the pain in his shoulder shortening his patience substantially - and snapped at him. "Spit it out, DiNozzo." He grumbled, already wishing he had not acknowledged the younger man's presence. Tony shifted uncomfortably, trying to formulate what knew he wanted to say in his head. "Do you remember Smith making a call to the director?" His memory of the past few days was hazy but Gibbs vaguely remembered it – it had something to do with Jenny revealing a weakness in Smith's plot. "Yeah." For some reason Gibbs did not understand, Tony winced and went silent again, staring at the wall. "What about it, DiNozzo?" The junior agent looked away from the very interesting spot on the blank wall to Gibbs' left to look him directly in the face. "I erm...I interrupted the director as she was about to tell you...something." A look of amusement crossed Gibbs' face as he imagined Jenny's reaction to that.

"Let me guess, she wants you fired?"

"No, boss." Tony replied.

"Lucky me..." Gibbs muttered, trying to lighten the tense atmosphere that had developed. Tony did not see it that way and his face remained grave.

"I was wondering if Smith carried out his threat after I...uh...interrupted." His face was deadly serious, and Gibbs could tell he was blaming himself for most of Gibbs' injuries.

"No, DiNozzo, he didn't carry out his threat because you hung up. He was always going to do it no matter what Shepard said. It's not your fault."

_He's just telling me what he thinks I want to hear. How could these injuries _not_ be my fault? I hung up. I doomed him, condemned him to suffer at the hands of that son of a bitch. Gibbs is lying - it is my fault, and he knows it._

Tony stared into the man's sharp blue eyes and was shocked. He saw only truth and concern in them, no animosity, not even a hint of disappointment.

_Maybe it really isn't my fault._

"But boss—" Gibbs glared at him, making him stop.

"It was _not_ your fault...In fact, if you hadn't cut her off, I wouldn't have been able to concentrate on how to overpower him...In some ways, Tony, you saved my ass...Thank you." He paused and studied Tony's face for any sign of understanding, but there was none. "DiNozzo...I...I owe you one. Hell, I'm proud of you, Anthony. " He sighed and winced at the pain it caused his ribs. As the gravity of what Gibbs had said sunk in, Tony radiated happiness. Gibbs was _proud_. Of _him_. Tony sat in silence, still digesting the praise, and watched his boss struggle to keep his heavy eyelids open, gradually giving in and falling into a drug-induced sleep.

When the man's breathing had settled into a regular, deep rhythm, he stood up to leave, only to find a hand tightly gripping his wrist. "Stay, son." The man's tired voice drifted to Tony's ears.

"Sure Jethro."

And stay he did, sleeping contentedly in the armchair at Gibbs' side, his arm still gripped loosely by the man.

* * *

**A/N: Well there it is. Gibbs is on the mend, being his usual irritating self when stuck in hospitals. But Tony's there to keep his mind off things.  
**

**Three cheers for those that can guess the insult mentioned coming from the USAF colonel. Probably not too difficult if you get the reference to a TV show that's hiding in there.**

***dreams of all the (hopefully) lovely reviews filling inbox***


	17. Two Steps Forward, One Step Back

**A/N: So...Many of you have expressed a wish for me to keep this story going a little longer, and in response I am writing an extra chapter. That means that THIS is the penultimate chapter xD Sorry memnoxx, hope you're not **_**too **_**annoyed about this.**

**Anyway, you're probably all thinking "Get on with it!" so here you go - an extra chapter for you.**

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"Agent DiNozzo! I swear, if he so much as pulls out a stitch – as much as my nursing staff want to get rid of him – I will not hesitate to haul him back here and have him readmitted, understood?" Tony quickly nodded to Dr. Kathleen Frasier, knowing Gibbs was eager to return to the comfort of his own basement. The diminutive woman turned to Gibbs, who was sitting on the edge of his bed, his right arm in a blue sling, and placed her hands on her hips. "Gibbs?" The man in question glared at her, unwilling to promise anything, even if it was only to rest and not undertake any exercise heavier than the short walk from his couch to the kitchen. Frasier raised one eyebrow. "Gibbs?" She repeated, sounding irritated. Gibbs had been trying to charm the nurses into giving him decent food – steak, curry, Chinese. His deal with Dr. Frasier had fallen to pieces a few days after it had been settled – Gibbs wrangling for an early release almost constantly and the doctor refusing to provide him with fresh scrubs, leaving him to wear the embarrassing gowns once again. Gibbs glanced at his senior field agent standing in the doorway as if asking Tony to agree _for_ him. Tony shrugged, smiling at the thought of Gibbs forcing his way out of the hospital. Gibbs would do anything to avoid asking for anything politely. Reluctantly, Gibbs looked back at his doctor, pouting like a spoilt child. "Fine." He huffed. He went to cross his arms, but it sent dull slivers of pain through his still damaged ribs. A flash of pain crossed his face and for an instant Frasier thought she had maybe overestimated Gibbs' recovery. Then she was reminded of all the trouble he had caused and all sympathy was lost.

The trio walked out of Gibbs' room and over to the nurses' station. Frasier thrust a set of papers at the older NCIS agent and leant over the counter to find him a pen. "Sign these. I'll be back in a few minutes with your pain medication and the antibiotics." With that she stalked away, surprisingly quickly for someone with such short legs. Gingerly, Gibbs grabbed the pen and began signing his name on the paper, the bandage covering his free hand restricting his movement, but also it was still painful from the IV line that had been inserted into it, despite the painkillers coursing through his system. When he looked up, Dr. Frasier had returned carrying several boxes of strong painkillers and a bottle of antibiotics. "These..." She said, raising a box of analgesics, "...are for any pain you experience and believe you me there will be times when you don't want to move for the pain – especially first thing in the morning. Take two tablets with a meal every six hours...Probably best to take them after breakfast when you wake up and when you have dinner so that you can sleep." She paused to address Tony. "They're very fast-acting and it is absolutely paramount that he NOT drink _any_ alcohol for at least twelve hours after taking the painkillers. I would feel happier if he didn't drink for the next three weeks while he's on the antibiotics and painkillers, but he doesn't seem to be the sort of person that can observe abstinence of alcohol for longer than twenty-four hours." Tony nodded his assent and accepted the boxes and bottle she handed him, stowing them in his pockets. "Take one antibiotic tablet every four hours, again with food and, again, do NOT drink alcohol while taking those painkillers. Is that understood, marine?" Gibbs caught the warning that underlined the title she applied to him and remained silent, nodding once to show he agreed, if grudgingly. Frasier rubbed her hands together, happy to finally be rid of the annoying federal agent. "Well, Agent Gibbs, I'm sure you won't mind if I say it hasn't been a pleasure to have you enjoying our hospitality, but, having seen your medical records, I know I'll be seeing you again sometime." She sighed.

"Joy..." Gibbs muttered, rolling his eyes, then went back to glaring at her.

"Agent DiNozzo, please, take this man home! At least get him out of my hospital – I can't stand that pathetic glare of his!" Tony almost choked at the doctor's exclamation, but was quick to cover it with a short cough. "Yes, ma'am. C'mon, boss – car's out front." That earned him another stern glare, but, today at least, Tony seemed to be immune to his boss' glares.

* * *

As they stepped out of the car and into the weak sunlight Tony sprinted ahead of Gibbs to reach his boss' front door first. Gibbs was only a few steps behind him and reluctantly handed the younger man his keys. Swinging the door open, Tony stepped through and held it open as Gibbs followed, shutting it behind him. Tony trailed him as Gibbs shuffled into his sitting room, lowering himself cautiously onto the couch. "What, DiNozzo?" He barked at the younger man hovering at the door. Tony stepped in, placed the boxes of pain relievers and antibiotics on the coffee table and then looked at his boss. There was a thin sheen of sweat coating the injured man's face and his mouth was drawn into a thin line – indicating that he was actually in pain. "Jeez, boss! You sure you should be out of the hospital?"

"Yes. Just get me some coffee."

"On it, boss." Tony had quickly reverted back to following Gibbs' barked orders after his brief stint in control of the team. "Do you need anything else? Painkillers? A blanket? A—"

"How about silence, DiNozzo?" Gibbs knew he meant well, but DiNozzo could be really annoying sometimes...Alright incredibly annoying _most_ of the time. Suitably chastened, Tony wandered into the kitchen and began making Gibbs' coffee.

As he leant back in the chair, Gibbs let out a long sigh. He might not be willing to admit it out loud, but his shoulder was killing him. His ribs were not much better either, but the pain in his shoulder had almost blocked it out. Despite his desire for coffee, Gibbs lay down on his back and stared at the ceiling.

_I really need to decorate this place...Maybe I can persuade DiNozzo to help._

Without realising until it was too late, Gibbs drifted into a dreamless sleep.

Minutes later, Tony returned with Gibbs' coffee – a small cup by his usual standards but coffee nonetheless – only to find the man sleeping peacefully where he had left him. Deciding not to rouse the man, Tony took the coffee back to the kitchen, wandered upstairs and rooted through the linen cupboard, looking for a clean blanket. When he found one he returned to Gibbs' side and covered him with it. Sitting on the chair opposite, Tony wondered again at how peaceful Gibbs seemed when asleep compared to being awake. Watching the steady rise and fall of the man's chest, Tony slowly slipped into his own blissful unconsciousness.

For the second time in as many weeks Gibbs was roused by searing pain coursing through his chest and crossing into his shoulder, engulfing it in renewed pain, and he could feel the beginning of what would come to be an excruciating headache building behind his eyes. Keeping his eyes welded tightly shut, Gibbs groped around for the button that would dispense morphine into his IV line and numb the growing pain. He felt the tips of his fingers brush something cold and he tried to grasp it, only to find that it slipped out of reach. There was a loud 'smash' as the button crashed to the floor, shattering.

_Shattering? That wasn't plastic... I must be at home. Great, now I'll have to clean that up._

"Boss, you ok?" Tony asked, concerned by the man's scrunched features and his confused expression. "...Gibbs?" Gibbs groaned in response and then rolled his head to the side to face DiNozzo, his eyes still closed. "Didn't I tell you to go home, DiNozzo? Gibbs countered, skilfully avoiding the first question. Not that Tony needed an answer – the thin layer of sweat coating Gibbs' pale face was proof enough of the pain he was in. "Erm...no, boss, actually you didn't." Tony stood up to fetch a dustpan and brush to clean up the smashed glass of water that now littered the floor and soaked into the carpet. "Do you need anything before I start cleaning this up? Painkillers perhaps?" Pondering the answer to that question, Gibbs gradually pushed himself up. Each time the effort made him gasp or curse at the pain Tony winced, refraining from helping the stubborn man: it would only make Gibbs less likely to admit he was in pain. Gibbs scrubbed his face with his hand as he wearily swung his legs off the couch, opening his eyes, and looked, bleary-eyed, at his watch. He realised he had slept for eighteen hours straight and looking at Tony confirmed his suspicions that the younger man had slept on the armchair opposite – his suit was creased, his hair sticking out at all angles. Again, Tony had to call Gibbs' name to regain his attention. "Do you want anything?"

"Coffee," was the grunted reply.

"What about to eat, Gibbs? You haven't eaten anything in twenty-four hours and you need to eat something so you can take the painkillers." Tony expected to receive no definitive answer to his question, but he did not expect Gibbs to bite his head off. "DiNozzo! You're not my nurse, and I don't need one! When you've finished your coffee, you can go home and get some proper sleep." Tony did not bother arguing – he knew Gibbs would eventually _need _help with something, although whether he asked for it was a different matter. "You're a real idiot sometimes, boss."

He stalked into the kitchen and began making Gibbs a mug of coffee. Five minutes later, as he exited the kitchen, Tony grabbed the only packet of crisps from the cupboard – pure wishful thinking on his part. He chucked the packet at Gibbs and followed it with a box of painkillers. "Take two when you're finished. I decided not to have any." He turned away from Gibbs and walked to the front door, silently hoping Gibbs would call him back before he reached it.

No call came.

"I'm going back to my place like you suggested. If you need anything – which I know you will – call my cell. Yours is on the table in front of you." He reached for the handle.

_You're such an idiot, Gibbs.  
_

Tony unlocked the door and pressed down the cold, brass handle.

_I saved your God damn life..._

He pulled the door open, took a last glimpse into the sitting room. Gibbs was still sitting on the edge of the couch, the coffee and crisps untouched.

_...And still you don't respect me enough to tell me when you're in pain._

He stepped through the door and swung it shut. Fuming, he stalked to his car and drove away.

* * *

Gibbs sat in silence in his big, empty house, wishing he was not such an ass.

_How many times have I pushed DiNozzo away when he's trying to help? He means well, I know that, why can't I just let him in for once._

Gibbs moaned as a wave of nausea washed over him – a combination of hunger and severe pain – and buried his head in his hand. When he stretched out his hand, he reached not for the crisps nor the coffee, but the painkillers. He popped out two of the small white tablets, then swallowed them with the entire mug of hot coffee. He closed his eyes again, leaned back and waited for the numbness to sweep over him.

Dr. Frasier had said something about them acting quickly and she was right – thirty minutes later and Gibbs' pain had all but abated, only now the queasiness was increasing. He went to stand up, hoping to reach the bathroom before he threw up, but his immobilised shoulder hindered his movement and he struggled – barely straightening before his knees buckled and he collapsed to the ground, retching violently. There was nothing to bring up, however, as he had not eaten recently.

_Ah, God! Where the HELL is DiNozzo? Where's my cell?_

He fumbled to find the small electronic gadget on the low table then let out a low groan of triumph when he grabbed it. Snapping it open, he dialled '1' on speed dial and waited as it rang.

"_Anthony DiNozzo._"

"T-Tony..." Gibbs gasped between retches.

"_Boss! Are you alright?_" The instant Tony recognised the voice, his own was full of concern. There was no reply from Gibbs' end and he knew there was something wrong. "_Boss, stay on the line. I'll be there in ten minutes._" It was a lost cause as Gibbs had succumbed to unconsciousness again – his body unable to take the relentless pain battering it from all directions, despite the painkillers flowing through his system. The phone thudded onto the carpet as his grip went slack. "_...Boss? You still there? ...Gibbs?_"

There might as well have not been a front door to Gibbs' house, the way Tony barged through and stormed into the sitting room. Instantly, he spotted the grey-haired man lying supine on his side and rushed to his side. "Crap! Gibbs, I'm sorry – I should never've left." He rubbed the man's back to stimulate a response, and was surprised when he got a semi-lucid one. "Not your fault...DiNozzo."

"Do you think you can stand?" Tony whispered, still rubbing the man's back.

"No choice, Tony." Gibbs managed a weak smile before his body convulsed again. Tony hauled the man from the floor as gently as he could then looped his arm around Gibbs' middle. Bit by bit, they shuffled out of the room, up the stairs and finally into Gibbs' bedroom. As they slumped onto the bed, Gibbs groaned. "Damn it, DiNozzo!"

"Sorry, boss." Tony pulled back the covers and Gibbs allowed him to lift his legs onto the bed, his eyes already drooping shut. "Just go back to sleep, Gibbs. I brought my overnight bag and I'll be just down the hall in your spare room." He waited for Gibbs to respond, but he was already deeply asleep.

* * *

Tony heard the stairs down to the basement creak and he turned round to see Gibbs walking down them, a tray carrying two mugs of steaming coffee. He looked much better than he had the day before – colour had returned to his face and his expression was more relaxed. "Morning, boss." Gibbs smiled back faintly and nodded to Tony, who was standing in front of the sturdy wooden bench at the other end of the long room, admiring the boat that currently occupied the space. "You taken the painkillers?"

"Yeah, Tony, I've learnt my lesson...for once." He chuckled softly, and the thought that Gibbs was, at least, pain-free and able to communicate with him without grunts and headslaps brought a smile to Tony's face too. "Now _that_ is good news, Gibbs." Changing the subject, Tony motioned to the upside-down, half-finished boat. "Do you want to do any work on that today?" Gibbs' eyes widened in surprise at Tony's choice of different subject.

_Anthony DiNozzo...Do something that might get his clothes dirty...Unheard of._

"_Her_, DiNozzo. All boats are 'her's or 'she's. Here." Tony's smile widened and he accepted the mug of coffee Gibbs handed him as he passed to sit on the lower section of the workbench. Gibbs motioned to a woodworking plane lying on its side on the worktop. "Try planing the rib nearest to you with that." Tony looked incredulously from the hand tool to his boss.

"You really need some powertools, boss." He retorted, laughing himself.

"DiNozzo, I swear, if I wasn't sitting down, your head would be half way to China by now!" Gibbs threatened, a smile playing at his lips. "Cool, I've never been to China. Could my head maybe stop at Japan? The girls there—" He was interrupted by a box of painkillers thudding against his skull.

"DiNozzo! Plane the damn rib." Gibbs sighed, almost regretting asking the exuberant man for his help. "On it, boss!"Tony replied, rubbing the spot where the corner of the box had caught him.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry this update is so late, but the parents have been dragging me all over the place with my grandmother this weekend. Went to the west coast of Scotland today and guess what. That's right! We got soaked. *sigh* Weeks of sunshine...followed by torrential rain. For days on end. JOY!**

**Anyway, aside from my second rant of this story, thanks to all the loyal readers, especially all you reviewers out there. Tell me what you think of this chapter - I'll try and get round to replying but who knows what the parents have planned. *double sigh* Can't wait until I go to uni.  
**


	18. The Balance of Eternity

**A/N: I'm actually quite sad to be finishing this but I can hardly just keep wittering on about Gibbs' recovery (and what would I do when he's fully recovered?).** **Anyway, I really appreciate all the excellent reviews everyone has submitted. Special thanks must go to silvanelf, iGymnast, hotchner, CD57, memnoxx, Moonlight83, mirajo, louise and last but not least laoisbabe for all their encouragement. **

**So...I can truthfully say that this is THE LAST CHAPTER of _Business As Usual_. It has been a pleasure writing this and seeing how people react to it...**

**But anyway, here you go. Tell me what you think - I promise I'll reply to all the reviewers before I go on holiday on Thursday.  
**

* * *

  
The elevator pinged as it reached his floor and he stepped out into the large open-plan room, barely missing a step as he was briefly reminded of the last time he had stepped through those doors with a case. He walked to the bullpen and found half of his team there already. Tony was typing away at his computer, concentrating so hard that his tongue was poking through his pursed lips, while Ziva was sharpening one of her many knives – her gun laid out in pieces on her desk. "DiNozzo! Why don't you take notes from Officer David on how to _really_ clean your weapon?" At the sound of Gibbs' voice, Tony's head shot up – although Gibbs was mocking him it was said in a more playful tone than he was used to. "It's good to see you, boss – we were getting a little bored with no cases to work, but now you're here we can finally get back in the field. McGee even had time to reinstall your computer, although IT weren't too happy about it." Gibbs looked around the bullpen, as if expecting the MIT graduate to have appeared while he was talking to Ziva and Tony. "Where's McGee?" Tony, who was still sniggering, answered. "He's down in Abby's lab. As it happens, he's been there all morning, boss. I think he said something about helping Abby with...something. Want me to call him up for you?" He reached for his phone, ready to dial despite knowing what McGee's reason for not being in the bullpen was. "Nope."

Gibbs turned away, intending to go straight down to Abby's lab but Tony called him back. "Boss, the director wants to see you." Something in Tony's expression – he was not sure whether it was apprehension or guilt – told Gibbs it had to do with his time spent as Smith's hostage. "She can wait, DiNozzo. I've got an over-excited goth to greet." Again, Gibbs smiled and turned away, striding towards the elevators and pressing the button for Abby's lab. The Mossad officer was left staring after her immediate boss – something had changed about him but she could not place the cause. It was not a negative change, but a change nonetheless – one that made Gibbs more open, at least when he was speaking to Tony. The two colleagues left in the bullpen waited until the elevator doors closed and then they dashed to the stairwell and followed him down.

* * *

When Gibbs reached the lab, however, the door was shut and locked. There was no flashing red beacon to indicate that the young forensic scientist was dealing with harmful chemicals so he was not overly concerned, just curious. He knocked and waited. Just before the door swung open, he could have sworn he heard a shrill cry of glee but shook it from his mind as McGee appeared. The young agent had lost the crutches and thick white cast that had plagued him for six weeks two weeks ago and now walked with only a very slight limp. "Hey boss. How're you feeling?"

"I'm fine, McGee." Gibbs answered gruffly. "Where's Abby? Tony told me you were helping her with something."

"Uh, she's in here, boss. We were just finishing up actually." McGee replied nervously, trying to block Gibbs' view into the lab.

"Gibbs! Gibbs! Gibbs!" Abby's shrill chant pierced the quiet in the lab and she hastened from her desk to stand behind McGee. Tim stepped aside to allow Abby to embrace Gibbs. She squeezed him tightly, crushing his still tender ribs, as though he were about to die. "Oh, I'm so-o glad you're back!"

"Hey...Abbs." Gibbs finally managed to utter, finding it difficult to breathe in her tight hug and slightly overwhelmed by the goth's unusual exuberance – more so than usual. She pulled him into her lab and dragged him over to her desk, forcing him to sit in her chair. "What's going on, Abbs?" He asked as she swivelled the chair round and he caught sight of Tony and Ziva sneaking in to the room. "Since it's your first day back at work after your...um...incident, we decided to get you something." Abby offered as way of an explanation. "Really?" He asked, raising both his eyebrows – now _this_ he wanted to see. "Indeed we did, Jethro, my dear boy. It is good to see you looking so well." Ducky's accented voice came from behind Gibbs and he spun 180 degrees to see Director Shepard and the NCIS medical examiner enter the room from Abby's other lab. They were both smiling, although Shepard's did not quite reach her eyes – it was merely a show for the rest of the team: both Gibbs and Shepard had come to realise that things would never return to how they used to be – especially after Gibbs had managed to extract the 'weakness' in Smith's plan of which Shepard had spoken from Tony. Admittedly, it had been very difficult and expensive – involving _a lot_ of Bourbon – but Gibbs had finally learnt the truth. They knew each other well enough to not have to discuss it.

"Hey Duck...Director Shepard." Gibbs kept his voice as neutral as he could. He smiled broadly at his long-time friend, Dr. Mallard, but glared openly at the woman. If looks could kill, the director of NCIS had just died several times over. It was entirely possible that all other occupants of the room would have been killed alongside her – such was the intensity of his stare. Boldly, she stared back.

Everyone remained silent, waiting for either Gibbs or the director to break their staring contest. Tony shifted in the doorway but in the end it was Ducky who broke the silence, coughing pointedly at the pair. They both redirected their 'death stare' at him, allowing their barely concealed hatred of one another to focus on Ducky. The older man smiled disarmingly and proceeded to tell Gibbs why they were all gathered in Abby's lab. To ensure Gibbs' attention was drawn away from the director, he stepped forward, physically placing himself between them. "I'm not sure what is going on between you two _children_..." Abby and Tony risked glancing at each other: they knew exactly what was going on. "...I'm not sure I even _want_ to know, but young Abigail, here, decided you'd need something other than alcohol and your boat to keep you occupied during your...compulsory absence. Unfortunately..." Ducky and the rest of the room chuckled, all except Jenny who was still standing at the doorway, fuming. "...We didn't manage to come up with anything until a few days ago, and then you were coming back anyway – so we got you something else." He grinned and looked at Abby, allowing her to take over.

"Well, we all know how much you love your coffee so..." She slid an A3 envelope out from under her mass spectrometer. "We got you something which will get you as much coffee as you want." Gibbs smiled as he tore open the envelope – his team was crazy, but not crazy enough to buy him a whole coffee plantation...plus that would involve him moving there to run it and Abby would never agree to that. He pulled out the card and gaped at the artwork on the front. The sight of his team in caricature form almost brought tears to his eyes – the picture reminded him of the drawings Kate Todd had done of them. Gibbs did not look up, nor did he speak – not yet trusting his voice. If he had looked up, he would have seen the smiles that flickered over his team's faces. Slowly he opened the huge card and read the message written in Abby's handwriting.

_To our boss,_

_Glad to have you back – we've all missed you._

_Don't kill McGee too much but he cleaned out your inbox – now you only have THIS year's e-mails – and Tony finished all the paperwork you had left over – he even spellchecked it! TWICE!_

Gibbs smiled at Abby's jokes and then glanced further down the massive card. There was a small rectangle of plastic below her scrawled message, about the size of a credit card. On it, it read:

_A lifetime's supply of free coffee. _

_Provided exclusively to NCIS Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs for being one hell of a team leader._

As he looked up and gazed around the room, he could not help but smile back at the row of faces opposite him. He stood up and kissed Abby on the check and murmured "Thanks." She glowed with pride and beamed back at him. Ducky, Tony and McGee each got a firm handshake and Ziva got a light-hearted tap on the back of her head. "Hey! What was that for, Gibbs?" He shrugged – content to let the Israeli officer puzzle it out for herself. Silently, Director Shepard slipped out of the room, tears forming as she realised that the relationship between her and Gibbs was now nothing more than professional, and disappeared into her office, burying herself in work.

* * *

_Recognize the hell that you're spewing forth  
What we might have shared is nothing anymore  
What you said to me  
Was never meant to be  
Never... again..._

**THE END**

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**A/N: w00t finished**.** Again, a huge thanks to all of the reviewers (and the readers, of course). Hope you enjoyed this as much as I did writing it and I look forward to reading the reviews to follow this chapter. **

**A/N+1: The lyrics at the end are from _Never...Again _by _All Shall Perish._**

**Hawkeye  
**


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